


Embers Turn To Ashes

by NadziejaEwelina0011



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: ATLA x Reader, Abused Reader, Abusive Parents, Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, AtLA, Avatar, Azula x reader - Freeform, Azula x reader x Zuko, Basically read at your own risk, Betrayal, Bisexual, Blood and Gore, Bloodbending, But not always, But she is mentally unhinged, Childhood Sweethearts, Dark Past, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, Drama & Romance, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Female Reader, Firebending, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It gets dark, It makes sense in the fic, Manipulation, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Illness, Mental Instability, Mild Blood, Minor Character Death, Multi, Other, Psychological Drama, Reader is forced to kill people, Romance, She's technically a waterbender, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Romance, Soft Azula, Suicidal Reader, Suicidal Thoughts, The Reader is a Bloodbender, Threats of Violence, Violence, Yandere, Yandere Azula, Yandere Romance, Yandere Zuko, Yandere x Reader, Zuko x reader - Freeform, bisexual reader, but is also soft in places, but it's not as dark as it seems until later chapters, fem reader - Freeform, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:47:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 56,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25229320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadziejaEwelina0011/pseuds/NadziejaEwelina0011
Summary: Li (Y/N) is the daughter of Tapeesa of the Southern Water Tribe and Li Yang of the Fire Nation. A Child of beauty and grace, cursed with the miserable ability to take the very life out of someone’s eyes by the use of bloodbending - used, abused and manipulated by those she loves, Li (Y/N) grows up in the Fire Nation’s Imperial Court with Prince Zuko and Princess Azula, forced to master her bending or suffer the consequences of failure.With a distant mother whose very life depended on (Y/N)’s success and merit in the eyes of Firelord Ozai and a father who expected her to be at her best, always, (Y/N) struggles to discover who she is, and is made to walk a thin line between good and evil.Warnings: Gore, Blood, Manipulation, Domestic Abuse, Child Abuse, Mental Illness, Suicidal Ideation, Death
Relationships: Azula (Avatar)/Reader, Zuko (Avatar)/Reader
Comments: 40
Kudos: 196





	1. Prologue

“(Y/N)!” A horrifying enraged screech sounded from the throne room as crimson tears dripped down the (H/C)-haired girl’s face. Sobbing to herself she held the long fabric of her vermilion dress up so she could run as fast and as far as her legs could carry her, praying she would escape and hideaway before she was captured. Her bloody tears tainted her face and fell onto the fabric of her dress, perfectly fading into the similarly red fabric she wore, her hands disgustingly wet with cold blood.  
She was almost out of breath, and her legs felt oh-so-heavy. Fear enveloped her completely as she heard the synchronised steps of Fire Nation soldiers chasing after her, and the Firelord himself yelling her name, much to the girl’s horror.

“No, no, no…” She whispered weakly after tripping over some steps in the garden, scrambling to get up despite her scrapes and minor injuries burning with dust surely infecting the wounds inside as she scurried away as far as possible, her once perfectly styled (H/C) dishevelled beyond any comb’s salvation as the turmoil of the situation got to her.  
Suddenly a squadron of Fire Nation soldiers blocked her path. “P-Please! Let me go!” Emotion overflowed from her troubled voice, pleading with the men to let her pass.  
“I don’t want to hurt you! Please!”  
“In the name of Firelord Ozai, stop right there.” (Y/N)’s breath hitched in her throat and she violently turned her head around, the hot life-force flowing through her veins turning to pure ice when she noticed her own father standing behind her, orbs of scorching flames in hand, ready to attack his own flesh and blood. “F-Father-”  
“-Silence, you monstrous beast!” The man who fathered her glared at her with a hatred she’d only ever seen in one other person’s eyes before - her own mother’s when she gazed upon her.  
“You have disgraced your nation, you have turned against those who fed you and clothed you by committing the highest treason!”  
(Y/N) shook her head over and over, more tears falling from her clouded eyes, “No! No! I couldn’t have, I-I wouldn’t! I wouldn’t! I didn’t! I Didn’t I didn’t, I didn’t!”  
The midday sky shifted into the darkest hour of the night, the sun morphing into the full moon, casting her light onto the girl’s figure as she wept.

Falling to her knees, she repeated loudly, “It wasn’t me! It wasn’t me!”, awaiting pain which never came.  
Opening her eyes was the biggest regret of her life as her scream sounded throughout the entire capital; dozens of dead Fire Nation soldiers laid on the grass that was once a vibrant green, now it was stained with a sickly metallic coating.  
The dead bodies around her caused her to hyperventilate as she pulled at her now loose hair, “No! No! No! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to!”

The look of betrayal in her father’s eyes as he laid in a puddle of his own blood cut through her heart as she crawled over to where he lay, cold and lifeless. She cradled her father’s body, holding his head to her chest, her sobs tearing through the palace grounds without restraint.  
She didn’t want to do this! This wasn’t supposed to happen.  
But it was all her fault.  
All her fault.

“I must commend you,” (Y/N) knew that voice better than any other. Azula.  
Sniffling, (Y/N) turned her head to the side and saw her childhood friend pridefully stride over to her, her pale hands slowly coming together to form sarcastic claps as she stared down at (Y/N), who looked so pathetic, the cruellest of smirks on her face. “You did what even I never thought I’d do.”  
(Y/N) gulped, shaking her head and softly pleading for Azula not to say it, but her words fell upon deaf ears.  
“You got rid of my competition for the crown. How thoughtful of you it was to slay my weakling brother,” Azula’s laugh pierced through her more than any sword could. In fact, she wished she could be pierced with a sword, at that moment. It would hurt less than this.  
Azula crossed her arms and snickered, “It was a wonderful sight to see - Zuko, begging for his life…”  
“Please stop…”  
“I mean, who would’ve thought you had it in you? I mean, I always knew you had the potential but never imagined that you would have finally channelled it. Congratulations.”  
Her words hit (Y/N) brutally, and she was at a loss for words.  
“Of course you did murder - mercilessly, may I add - a member of the royal family so, as tragic as it is I’m afraid you have to be imprisoned. How sad.” Her pout mocked her.  
Releasing her father’s corpse, (Y/N) rose up with shaky feet. “N-no…” Azula laughed in her face, “Sorry, it’s how it is…of course, I appreciate what you did - but you’ve simply become too much of a loose end for us to deal with; I’m sure you can understand?” Blue flames encircled her as Firelord Ozai finally caught up, seeing the carnage around the once-pristine royal garden.

Screaming, the energy of the full moon turned (Y/N) into an uncontrollable beast, unable to control herself, she attacked Azula and Ozai, blacking out.  
Suddenly it was dawn.  
She fell onto the red-soaked ground and back-crawled until she hit a tree, wanting nothing more than to pull her own heart out and end her miserable existence.

Ozai lay dismembered on the ground, with Azula’s body spasming as the life drained from her eyes.  
“Mo…nster,” Azula breathed with her final dying words, before succumbing to her wounds.  
(Y/N) wept harder in disbelief of the horrors she had committed, distressed and panicked.  
Her mother appeared before her, smiling down at her with a warmth (Y/N) could only remember from her earliest years. “M-Mother…?”  
Tapeesa nodded, and raised (Y/N)’s chin so the girl would look into her eyes, but said nothing. Her mother shoved her hand into (Y/N)’s chest, pulling out a single used up piece of coal instead of a beating heart. “You are heartless.”

Thud.  
Your eyes opened as you vigorously looked around the room, relieved to see you were in your bedroom. The moon illuminated the room through the tall window as you gasped and pressed your palm in-between the valley of your breasts, relief flooding through you like a tsunami when you felt your panicked, palpitating heart.  
You did have a heart, at least.

Thickly swallowing, you raised yourself onto your feet, having fallen off the bed as a result of yet another nightmare. They weren’t as common these days, at least - but when they happened, they were atrocious.  
Placing your hand on your dresser to steady yourself, you looked out the window at the edge of your chambers, the nearly-full moon mocking you.  
You were still finding it hard to breathe, anxiety haunting you from the events your mind had dreamt about.  
At least it was just a dream - you couldn’t imagine what you’d do had that all been a reality. You would sooner impale yourself on the sharpest sword than allow yourself to harm those you loved and respected. The mere idea of committing treason against the royal family that had taken care of you throughout your life was enough to not only leave a bitter taste in your mouth but enough to make you feel sick.  
The imagined image of their bloodied corpses haunted you in your waking hours and you felt tears dripping down your cheeks. With instinctive haste, your fingers swiped under your eyes and pulled back to check the saturation of your tears. Clear.  
Leaning back against the dresser, your heart felt heavy in your chest. At the very least you weren’t crying blood.

Unable to properly breathe, you sluggishly made your way over to the windowsill, sitting down and staring up at the night sky. You had to remind yourself over and over that it had only been a terrible, over-the-top nightmare, and nothing more than that. Regardless, you vowed to yourself that you would kill yourself if push ever came to shove and you found yourself on the verge of hurting those you loved the most.  
Especially if it ever happened to be Azula or Zuko.  
The royal family were the closest people to your heart. You valued their lives far above your own - as you should, rightfully so, since their lives were imperial and vital to the country.

Pressing your hand against the cool glass, you couldn’t help but wonder whether Zuko himself was currently awake, staring at the very same night sky as you were. Perhaps you read too many mindless romance novels, but the idea bought you some needed peace.  
What also bought you peace was the acknowledgement he was far away from you, and thus could not be hurt by your abilities - even if it pained you to be away from him, it was for the best.  
Every single day of your life you had to struggle with the fear of accidentally hurting either Azula, your father or even Firelord Ozai. It was a crippling fear and made daily life a chore.

Fortunately for you, that had never happened and as long as you controlled your powers efficiently, it never would.

Things had been so much easier when you were a child - before all this. Before your curse had been discovered that fateful night and before your mother grew to fear and hate you - back when were just a young girl with hopeful dreams.  
Now all hopes for a normal, simple life had been extinguished. You were “important to the war efforts” or so you were told time and time again growing up.  
Your hand fell limp at your side. You wished things could go back to when princess Ursa had still been here, too.  
She was lovely, you remembered. And Zuko was still here and Azula was kinder - as kind as she ever had been - and life had been…better.  
Now it was so dreary, and though you knew you could never dare utter the words aloud lest it be viewed as treason against Firelord Ozai, you missed Zuko. On one half, he was a traitor. He went against the Firelord and had to be punished.  
But life without Zuko was harder than you had anticipated it to be.  
His presence used to calm you, even if you never told him that. The nightmares weren’t as common before when he was still been here. The past three years had been difficult. Everyone acted as though Iroh and Zuko were never real - like they didn’t exist. But you loved them, and you always would. Iroh was a kind man to you in the past, and Zuko…well, Azula would undoubtedly insult you as she laughed her heart out if you ever told her of how much you missed him, but he held a piece of your heart forever, and you did not think it would change. Three years of absence had not changed how you felt towards him, and you didn’t think anything would - time, or anything else.

You could only pray for his safety and the best of luck in his quest towards redemption, yet even you knew better than to hope for the Avatar to be found; it was a fool’s errand and you felt guilty for the bitterness you felt towards Firelord Ozai for having banished Zuko and sent him on such an impossible task. Firelord Ozai had been nothing short of the ideal ruler and treated you well. You never wished for anything and were treated better than anyone else could ever hope to be outside of the royal family.  
Regardless, your love for Zuko and his well-being overruled your respect and gratitude to the Firelord; you were equally grateful as you were bitter.  
You could thus only hope that time would ease Ozai’s wounded pride and he would allow his own son to return.

Return to the Fire Nation.  
Return to the palace.  
Return to…you.


	2. Chapter One: Searching For Something

The salty taste of the ocean air made Zuko yearn for the subtly spiced air of the Fire Nation. Three long, excruciating years had passed since he had last been allowed to smell the almost-sweet scent of cinnamon and ginger that filled the Capital’s streets. 

He regretted now that he didn’t appreciate the smaller things in life when he still could - not that Uncle Iroh would ever be privy to hearing him say that, of course.

Staring out into the endless horizon, Zuko sighed dejectedly, crossing his arms as he tried to think of where to go to search for the Avatar next. He had to find him! He had no other choice - failure was not an option  
For three years he’d gone all over the world in search of the one thing that could restore his honour and wounded pride and with each passing month he grew more distraught.  
But he could feel it in his bones - change was coming. It had to, it just…had to. If he had to spend another forsaken year away from his home he was going to go insane. How could he have been so foolish as to speak out against his father’s admiral during a war meeting? Truly, he’d been incredibly stupid and couldn’t blame his father for punishing him; he had been out-of-line to do what he did.  
Which was why he had to prove himself as worthy. Worthy of the honour that had been rightfully stolen from him. Worthy of his father’s love.

…and worthy of the girl he was betrothed to in the past. 

His throat tightened as he thought of her, fists clenching as he leaned against the ship’s barrier on the deck, wind blowing through his ponytail and hitting his semi-bold head. Her name burnt the tip of his tongue hotter than dragon’s fire and he dared not to utter those sweet syllables. 

Her tear-stained face haunted him, still. 

Years had passed and yet his dreams were filled with her presence, memories from days gone by and new scenarios leaving him disappointed each morning when he woke. 

His honour, of course, was his priority. It always would be. 

Before he was her fiance, he was a prince. Or he had been - and now he was neither.  
One day he would regain his title, regain his regal status and thus - he hoped - regain her.  
But his responsibilities would require his utmost attention, and he’d made a previous mistake of neglecting some sacred duties for her. Perhaps if he’d been more serious about his role as father’s rightful heir and spent less time wasting time with her, his father wouldn’t have felt the need to disown him completely; had he been a better son, perhaps mercy would have been shown. 

But it hadn’t been so, and though he knew he would relive his sins and regrets for the rest of his days, he also had a task to focus on.  
The only way he would ever return to grace was if he defeated and captured the Avatar. And he would.

He just…needed to find him. 

That old cursed man had to be hiding from him, somewhere. Evading him and his ship. The last Airbender must know he’s being hunted for and is playing him for a fool. 

But sooner or later, Zuko would find him and put an end to him, and his destiny would be completed in full. Though if that cursed night of his Agni Kai with his own father taught him anything, it was that he needed to practice. 

The Avatar had a hundred years to train and Zuko needed to excel at firebending to remotely even stand a chance against him - he hoped, however, that the Avatar’s surely old age would make things easier for him. 

He felt someone’s eyes on him and gritted his teeth, turning around, glaring, only to see his Uncle staring at him with pity in his eyes. Zuko’s hand tightened around the iron barrier - he didn’t need pity. 

“Uncle.” he greeted with a ruff voice, clearly not in a good mood. 

Iroh sighed to himself as the wind blew through his hair, empathy welling in his heart for his beloved nephew - so obsessed with finding the Avatar that it had eaten away at him for years, now.

For three long years, Iroh tried to the best of his abilities to get through to his nephew, to explain to him that this was a fool’s quest - yet without directly saying it so.

And yet despite his efforts, Zuko remained in denial of the impossibility of the task at hand. 

A part of Iroh was frustrated beyond belief after years of dealing with this, but Iroh didn’t dare act upon his internalised frustrations - searching for the Avatar brought Zuko solace and hope, and if it kept Zuko from total despair then Iroh told himself he would entertain the idea of the Avatar’s existence for the sake of his nephew’s sanity.

Spending his time with Zuko in exile taught Iroh the true meaning of patience. 

“Nephew.” He responded with a soft tone, eyebrows furrowed. “Would you like me to make you a cup of warm jasmine tea, nephew?”  
“I don’t want any stupid tea.”  
For once, Iroh wished Zuko would take him up on his offer. Some tea would do that boy good. 

“Have it your way, Prince Zuko, but you don’t know what you’re missing out on. Warm, delicious jasmine tea…there’s nothing better to soothe the nerves.”  
“I’m not stressed!” He argued, then crossed his arms, discontented. “Besides I don’t have time for idly sitting around like you do, Uncle. I must go back to my room and correspond with my map about where to look for the Avatar next.” He started storming towards the iron door leading to inside the ship, “He’s hiding from me. I know he is.” He muttered, causing Iroh to shake his head when Zuko wasn’t looking, pitying his nephew immensely. 

Poor boy. Fate had been unkind to him, but Iroh could only hope that Zuko would eventually come to terms with his own banishment and the events that took place and that he would eventually let this hyperfixation on searching for the Avatar go. 

But for now, he would allow Zuko to have his hope - even if he knew it couldn’t possibly last long, now. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The next day was the same as any before it, mundane as ever.  
The exiled prince stood on the deck of his ship, staring out into the vast nothingness of the south, icebergs of tinted white being the only thing in sight for miles on end. She haunted him in his dreams again, tonight. Hurriedly, he changed the subject of his thoughts to his search. 

He would never give up his quest to capture the Avatar. He couldn’t give up for the sake of regaining all the things he’d lost over the years. By proving to his father he was worthy of having his honour restored he would have everything else back - he was certain of it. And if he captured the Avatar himself he would accomplish that which no man before him had; that, which not even Firelord Sozin managed to accomplish if the tales and legends were to be believed. 

The possibility that the avatar had been killed was…unfortunate. But even if the Avatar had died, he would have been reborn again into the water tribe, so Zuko supposed this was the ideal place to search. If folktales were to be believed, though, Zuko was expecting to find an old master of elements.

“Prince Zuko, why don’t you sit and play Pai Sho with me?” Iroh suggested as he lifted his cup of tea to his lips, blowing on it to cool it a little before sipping on it and placing it back down. “It’s far more productive than glaring at the icebergs.” 

Zuko clenched his jaw, turning to his uncle, about to rudely refuse the offer when a bright, overwhelming beam of light shot up from the distance. Zuko gasped, turning to stare at it in awe. 

The Avatar.

It had to be. It just had to be him - there was surely no other explanation for such a phenomenon! Hope that had been slowly beginning to deplete from Zuko’s soul suddenly returned in full, the idea of finding the Avatar at long last and being back in his father’s favour was too good to ignore. There was a part of him that warned him not to be overzealous again but he buried it deep inside of him, refusing to acknowledge this as anything other than a sign of the Avatar’s presence.

It was the Avatar. It had to be the Avatar.

With ulterior excitement, Zuko turned to face his uncle, gesturing to the heavenly beam, “Uncle! Do you know what this means?” Iroh did not even pay a single drop of his attention on the light, condolence enveloping him at the prospect of yet another dead end. It always was. These three years Zuko jumped at the idea of every natural phenomenon being the Avatar. From aurora borealis to each sparkle in the distance, Zuko always - without a doubt - believed wholeheartedly it was the Avatar and a chance to restore his lost honour. 

There was nothing more tragic than this, in Iroh’s eyes. 

The first few times, Iroh tried to share Zuko’s hopeful enthusiasm. But the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results; Iroh knew when to cut his losses and the amount of red herrings they had was telling of the simple fact; the Avatar was no more. 

A hundred years ago he had disappeared and never returned since, and Iroh sincerely doubted that would suddenly change now just because Zuko had willed it to.  
“I won’t get to finish my game?”  
There was no point in Iroh even attempting to fake any personal hope, at this point. He knew that this was not possible and that it would end in disappointment as these things always do. 

Zuko scoffed at his uncle’s reply - of course, that drowsy old man only cared about his Pai Sho and his tea. What a boring life to lead. He remembered a time, long ago, when his uncle had been the pride of their nation. To fall so far from that glory…it was something Zuko refused to succumb to. He was going to have his glory returned to him and would never let it go afterwards, and then he would be a hero - the one who did what everyone perceived to be impossible; Capturing the Avatar - and then he’d be loved and adored by all, and his father would once again accept him as his son. 

And that would be when he would finally prove himself worthy as heir to Ozai and as a future husband to (Y/N). 

“It means that my search - it’s about to come to an end.”  
Iroh tried and consequently failed to stop the tired groan sounding from his lips, further agitating his temperamental nephew.  
“That light came from an incredibly powerful source! It has to be him!” This time he knew he was right. He just knew that it was the Avatar if only his fool of an uncle would just listen to him for once instead of being such a useless, judgemental withered old man!

“It’s just the celestial lights,” He reprimanded with a subtle shaking of his head, eyes locking with Zuko’s. The look in Iroh’s eyes made Zuko want to scream; that worthless sympathetic disbelief wasn’t helping him with his search in the slightest. Sometimes he wished his uncle hadn’t come along with him, he didn’t need him here with him, anyways. He would find the Avatar by himself.  
“We’ve been down this road before, Prince Zuko.” Did his uncle have nothing better to do but remind him of his past failures? 

Whatever. He didn’t need to stay here and listen to this. 

He knew better because his life was hanging on the line that this really was the Avatar, this time. 

“I don’t want you to get too excited over nothing.” Nonchalantly, Iroh continued to play Pai Sho by himself, paying no mind to the beam of light, “We’re in the South Pole. The celestial lights occur at odd hours of the day, and you should pay no mind to them.” He turned his face towards the teapot. “Prince Zuko…come. Sit.” He instructed, tone fatherly and gentle as he tried to coax Zuko into sitting down and grounding himself as he tried to do every single day, hoping one day Zuko would cave in, and see that there was method in what Iroh knew Zuko saw as laziness.

“Enjoy some calming jasmine tea.” If he had to hear his uncle try to persuade him to drink that forsaken jasmine tea one more time, Zuko was going to snap and throw all of Iroh’s tea leaves into the ocean.  
Why couldn’t his stupid uncle just leave him be?  
“I don’t need any calming tea!”  
Uncle Iroh was stubborn to the point of idiocy. - how many times did Zuko have to reject the offer for his uncle to realise he didn’t want any?  
Ordering the helmsman to set a course for the light, Zuko stared into the distance with newly-discovered determination, success so close he could almost taste it on the tip of his tongue. He would have everything again, and would hold onto everything - his title, honour and, he hoped, fiancee - and never let them go.

After this banishment, he would never dare go against his father’s will again; Zuko was a foolish boy back then but he changed now. He knew better.  
He was going to be a good son, from now on.

One his father would not be ashamed of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The chirping of morning birds filled the skies as (Y/N) walked through the palace halls, the edge of her dress trailing behind her with each step.  
(E/C) eyes stared outside the windows at the rising sun encasing everything in its glorious shine and she smiled to herself.  
There was so much beauty in this world. 

Making her way to the garden, (Y/N) gracefully hopped down the stone steps and reached a table perfectly laid out with all types of breakfast. “Good morning, Princess Azula.”

Azula was already sat at the table, elegantly drinking a cup of tea as she smirked and nodded at (Y/N) in acknowledgement. “(Y/N).” Azula’s silky voice caused shivers to run down the (H/C)-haired girl’s spine as she smiled softly and sat opposite the Princess. “It’s about time you arrived. I almost believed you might have forgotten.” 

“And miss out on spending time with you, your highness? Never.”  
Her response satisfied Azula, and that was enough for (Y/N). 

The wind here was gentle - forgiving. It was almost winter, and yet (Y/N) couldn’t remember a single time in which it had snowed here. It was a very chilly morning, but the sun was shining and dawn was giving a new breath onto Earth’s creations. Sometimes, (Y/N) liked to pretend she was a bird; a being of freedom, with no responsibilities or powers or morals.

(Y/N) poured herself a cup of tea, enjoying the peaceful moment. They didn’t get many of those. 

Normally, Azula would have her breakfasts with her father, but these days he was often either in early meetings with advisors or travelling around the Fire Nation and planning things (Y/N) was not privy to hear about. 

As such, (Y/N) had once suggested at a time the previous year, that perhaps it would be nice if the Princess was to have her breakfasts with her, instead. 

In her typical prideful fashion, Azula always made it out to be a favour for (Y/N) - her, the Princess, allowing (Y/N) to eat with her. 

But the young bloodbender didn’t mind, because she knew the truth; Azula enjoyed these mornings just as much as she did. 

Especially since, even if Azula would sooner die than admit it, (Y/N) could see how lonely Azula got, even more so than usual when Firelord Ozai was away.  
It wasn’t as though Azula and Ozai spent every moment together when he was here - in fact, the only times they did was for meals, whenever Firelord Ozai requested her presence because he needed her to do something or for the occasional war meetings - though those didn’t happen nearly as often as they had once been. 

The only thing to discuss these days, really, was what to do about Ba Sing Se and the North Pole.

If (Y/N) had to describe her relationship with Azula to someone, she’d be unable to do so in a manner easy-to-understand. 

In fact, she didn’t quite understand their relation either. 

On one hand, they were childhood friends - (Y/N) and Azula played together with Mai and Ty-Lee and had countless fond memories together. 

On the other, Azula was the Princess. This meant that there was a natural distance between them that complicated things - (Y/N) never really knew how to speak to Azula, afraid of ever being unintentionally disrespectful. To think, at one point, they may have been sisters-in-law - had Zuko’s banishment never happened.  
Things had been easier then - (Y/N) knew her place, when Zuko was here. She was the fiancee of the future Firelord. That was her role at court - her role in the war, of course, was vastly different. 

But now when it came to imperial matters, the (H/C) girl drowned in a sea of uncertainty. She knew not how to speak to someone who she once could speak to with such ease, nor was she sure about her role at court, anymore.  
Truthfully, she’d expected to be sent away from the palace as soon as Zuko had been exiled; if their wedding was not to be, then what was the point of keeping her here?  
At the same time, the mere concept of being sent away from court frightened her. She had lost Zuko three years ago - Azula was all she had left. 

One thing that was certain, though, was the fact that (Y/N) loved Azula; she was her childhood friend and the care she felt for the raven-locked prodigy was immeasurable. And though Azula rarely, if ever, told (Y/N) she cared about her, (Y/N) knew that Azula did. 

Indeed, the relationship between Princess Azula of the Fire Nation and (Y/N) daughter of Li Yang was a mystery to even them.  
Unspoken but existing feelings neither could ever quite identify, a certain type of care that they couldn’t explain - that they refused to verbally speak of or acknowledge, but both knew of its existence. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“…I need to continue my training.” Zuko suddenly declared, much to Iroh’s silent sorrow. His nephew recently had been fixated on his firebending training - night and day Iroh could see (and at night, hear) him vigorously practising his skills.

All this hard work - for something futile. 

But Iroh hadn’t the heart to refuse Zuko’s desire to learn. Tiredly, Iroh nodded, calling two soldiers over as he walked to the side and declared for the sparring to begin. 

Almost immediately he noticed the minor mistakes which, on a real battlefield, could have major consequences in Zuko’s form and movement, shaking his head and correcting them, much to Zuko’s chagrin, “Stop,” He ordered, cutting in-between Zuko and the soldiers, “No,” Iroh ordered, shaking his head, “Again.” 

Impatiently, Iroh explained for the thousandth time, “Power in firebending comes from the breath,” 

Gesturing to his lungs, demonstrating the flow of air from lungs to mouth and vice versa. “Not from the muscles.” 

He felt drained. Day in and day out Zuko was making the exact same mistakes. He was not listening, but Iroh knew he would never improve his skill if the young prince did not take his advice to heart.

No amount of muscle could save Zuko in a life-threatening situation in a real fight if he did not first master his breath control. 

“The breath becomes energy in the body, the energy extends past your limbs and becomes,” Iroh moved his arms up his chest before exclaiming, “-Fire!” tall flames rose from the palm of his hands, and he turned to sternly look at his nephew. “Get it right this time.” 

Clearly, with every mistake he made, Zuko felt bothered by Iroh’s criticisms and felt them useless.  
Iroh didn’t even know what he was talking about, probably. “Enough,” His hand moved down in a cutting motion, “I’ve been drilling this sequence forever. Teach me the next set. I’m ready.” 

Fed up with Zuko’s childishness, Iroh barked, “No, you’re impatient. You have yet to master your basics. Drill it again.” Iroh knew he had to push him until it finally sunk into his mind. 

He prayed that someday in the future Zuko would look back on this journey and realise everything that Iroh did had been for his own good. All the constant drilling and tiresome practise was for the sake of the Prince.

He tried not to think about the possibility that either Azula or even Ozai himself could someday decide Zuko is a liability to the crown and try to end him for good, thus securing the crown for Azula. 

If it were up to him, he and Zuko would settle somewhere peaceful; as peaceful as one can be during a war, where no land existed where blood had not been spilt within the last century. That would be for the best, so he believed; if they settled and stayed hidden in, say, the Earth kingdom, Iroh was certain that Zuko could find happiness yet and begin anew. 

But he was not foolish enough to believe Zuko could ever release the past. Not when Zuko was so unwilling to let the truth of their reality sink in.  
Iroh supposed he couldn’t blame him. What happened to him had been more than cruel - it was a beastly punishment his brother forced upon his nephew, and Iroh knew if his father could see the state of the Fire Nation now, he would roll over in his grave. Firelord Azulon was a cruel man. But even a cruel man was no monster, not as his younger son had grown to be. Iroh wondered, sometimes, if he could have changed his brother for the better before it had been too late, but reminded himself how deep he, too, was in the bloodthirst for most of his own life. 

Of course, the was also the matter of (Y/N). Ah, she was a sweet girl, always had been. Iroh had been a young man once, and it was no surprise to him that Zuko was hesitant to let the emotions he felt for that girl go without a fight, but it had been three years and in Iroh’s eyes, it was time for him to move on. 

He still exchanged letters with the girl, from time-to-time. In secrecy, of course; letters sent through carrier birds. As far as Iroh knew, no one else was aware they sometimes wrote to one another, mostly due to the fact if the young girl was caught corresponding with the exiles, things would surely turn sour for her. She asked about Zuko, sometimes, so Iroh would tell her small updates on their journey here and there, and she would, in turn, tell him about how life in the Fire Nation was going.

Which reminded him, he’d have to send her another letter soon. 

Zuko throwing a tantrum snapped him out of his thoughts, and he huffed, glaring at the prince. His nephew tried to intimidate him - it was a pitiful attempt - “The Sages tell us the Avatar is the Last Airbender. He must be over a hundred years old.”  
“He’s had a century to master all the elements. I’ll need more than just basic firebending to defeat him.” Zuko narrowed his eyes at the older man in front of him, yelling out, “You will teach me the advanced set!”

Iroh took a deep breath, calming himself. If he had been the man he once was, he would have gotten angry at Zuko’s blatant disrespect. Fortunately for the would-be prince, Iroh had come a long way. The temptation to teach his nephew a lesson was still there, of course; there were some habits and whims that Iroh knew he could never rid of, but he could control whether or not to act on them. “Very well,” He responded, not allowing his voice to raise even an octave higher, “But first…” He paused for a second, thinking of something to do as an excuse to prolonge, “I…must finish my roast duck!” He pulled out the bowl, chomping down on it with purposeful gluttony.Much to his relief, the action had been the right thing to do as the atmosphere of his nephew’s internal rage immediately turned to a lighter sense of mild disgust and confusion. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s getting colder.” (Y/N) attempted to make small talk as she cut into her eggs. Azula playfully scoffed, “Well, yes, that usually happens when winter is coming.” Instead of feeling embarrassed, (Y/N) let out a laugh that reminded Azula of the sweet chime of a bell.  
She would sooner die than say it aloud but she liked the sound of (Y/N)’s laugh.

…She liked a lot of things about her childhood…’ friend’, that she wouldn’t be  
caught dead saying to anyone. 

She was hesitant to call anyone her ‘friend’, and (Y/N) was no different. Regardless of this, Azula couldn’t deny - at least not to herself - that she didn’t mind having her around. It’s not as if she needed the (E/C)-eyed girl around her or anything, Azula was perfectly happy on her own and the only person whom she needed was herself. But…she supposed it was ‘nice’ to have someone to spend time with.  
What, with Mai away in the Earth kingdom colonies and Ty-Lee having turned into some unruly circus freak, Azula wasn’t about to complain about having some company. 

These mornings spent with (Y/N) were, dare she say, pleasant. And harmonious, in an otherwise busy life. Of course, she enjoyed being busy - why wouldn’t she? She was now the heir to the crown of the Fire Nation and someday she would reign supreme. It was such a shame poor little Zu-Zu was such a terrible disgrace - a shame for him, that is - for her his fall from grace was fortunate. 

Azula didn’t doubt that even if he hadn’t gone against father’s wishes and gotten himself scarred for life and exiled, she would’ve still surely surpassed him and taken the crown - just like father had done with Uncle Iroh. 

The superior sibling gets the throne one way or another. 

And she is the superior sibling. 

“I suppose you’re right, Azula.” (Y/N)’s voice was the most soothing sound in the world. Pride did not allow Azula to focus on all the memories she held locked away inside of her heart; memories of the many times (Y/N) would comfort her when they were younger. 

Azula never needed anyone else but herself.  
But (Y/N)’s presence in her life had never been a liability nor a nuisance, either. 

“Is the weather all you want to talk to me about today?” 

(Y/N)’s cheeks flushed the lovely shade of cherry blossoms as she took a sip of tea, “Forgive me, your highness.”  
Words could never express how much Azula liked to hear the title fall from (Y/N)’s plump lips. Referring to Azula as her superior was the right thing for her to do, but despite that, it held a certain flow to it that made it feel right for her to say. It reminded Azula she had all the power over (Y/N). And power was the most important thing in this world - control was something she would never let go. And every time (Y/N) called her by her title(s), Azula couldn’t help but smile to herself, remembering that she had control over (Y/N), too. 

“I…” (Y/N)’s voice turned hesitant and she bit her lip. Azula gazed at her expectantly. “Yes?” Impatience coated her voice. 

It seemed impatience ran in the bloodline.  
Y/N sighed, taking a small sip of tea and placing the teacup back down, staring up at the birds flying past. “I was just wondering, really.” She admitted softly, “About the…Avatar.” She trailed off, embarrassed and hesitant, afraid that her words might somehow spark anger in Azula. 

It was hard to know what would offend the princess. 

Thankfully for the bloodbender, Azula burst into laughter, shaking her head, “Oh, (Y/N)…!” She took in a cheerful breath, chuckling wildly as though the girl had just said the funniest joke on the planet. “You do realise that the Avatar is gone forever, right?”

“W-We’ll - yes, of course, I am, but-”  
“-I mean, okay, I suppose that it’s understandable you’re curious about the matter, but the Avatar is not going to come back. He’s gone. Great-grandfather Sozin got rid of him, everybody knows that. It’s just an old wives’ tale that the Last Airbender managed to survive.” Azula dismissed with ease, as though she was explaining something to a clueless child. She then narrowed her eyes, locking them with (E/C) shades, “Though I do wonder what brought this on. Is it perhaps that you’re thinking about Zu-Zu?”  
“Well, I-”  
Her laughter filled the air once more, “Oh, don’t be so anxious - gosh - it’s almost as though you fear me,” She paused, smirking, “Which you should.”  
(Y/N) nodded, “Of course, Princess Azula.” Though it was a bare-faced lie, for the maiden did not fear the princess of flames. She loved her in every way a person could be loved. It was better to just smile and agree with Azula, most of the time. Pressing subjects she didn’t want to talk about was never a good idea.

“You’re allowed to wonder about him, though. I mean, you were going to marry the man.” She hummed, trying to conceal the tightness she felt in her chest having to remind herself of the fact (Y/N) almost married her weakling of a brother.

The mere idea of (Y/N) marrying was absurd.  
After all, she was Azula’s favourite toy and the idea of having her taken away by any man was enough to upset her. 

“Such a good thing you didn’t, though. Gods, could you imagine?” Azula’s bitter snickers turned (Y/N)’s blood cold, “Being married to such a terrible disgrace, oh, it would have been such a tragedy.” 

She tightened her grip on her teacup, pressing pressure onto it and trying to mentally steady herself. Instincts wanted her to defend Zuko, but logic dictated otherwise.  
“I was just curious.”  
“Hm. If you say so,” Suddenly, Azula seemed disinterested in the subject, realising she wasn’t going to get much of a rise out of (Y/N). 

Too bad. 

“I just was wondering about your opinion. We haven’t really talked about the Avatar before.”  
“I suppose so. Anyways, did I tell you about how I managed to absolutely ruin Instructor Kai’s entire career by defeating him last training session? It’s such a pity you weren’t there to see it - which I think I’d like it if you came to my training from now on -”

(Y/N) feigned interest in what Azula was telling her, agreeing to come to watch every training session because trying to argue or go against Azula’s wishes was unwise.But she noticed a family of birds in a nest behind Azula’s head that reminded her freedom existed.

Even if it could never be hers.

Her thoughts once more travelled far to wherever Zuko may be, smiling at the prospect of him being free. In a way, he was; she wished he would see things the way she did.  
The banishment had freed him from the shackles of morals and war. But she knew him so well, she knew he would long to return back into a glided cage until the day he died.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
A firework blew up in the distance and Zuko grabbed the nearest spyglass, smirking to himself. “Wake my uncle.” He ordered, “I found the Avatar.” 

Soon, Zuko would regain everything he lost. 

And his search would finally come to an end, and he would have everything he would ever need. 

His crown, his family and his fiancee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, thank you for reading! Please consider commenting and giving a Kudos if you enjoyed, it really helps keep me motivated and writing more!   
> \- Nadzieja Ewelina ("Mod Rozalia")


	3. Chapter Two: Weakness

The thick, smooth brush was dipped in raven ink as Iroh contemplated on what to write to (Y/N). In her previous letter, she’d asked about how Zuko was faring. She asked about his nephew a lot, probably more than she even realised herself. They had been incredibly close before his banishment, so Iroh understood her worry for him, especially with how everything had turned out.  
He’d been young once, and he knew what young love was like.  
He knew how painful and difficult letting someone you love go could be.

Iroh skilfully moved the brush against the papyrus, beginning his letter - except he was stuck. Iroh wasn’t sure whether to inform (Y/N) about his nephew’s claim that they had discovered the Avatar, or not. It was the same as every other time - of this, Iroh was certain. He had a feeling (Y/N) would agree with him - the search for the Avatar was a futile, impossible task especially given to Zuko because it was the one thing he would never be able to accomplish. 

He just wished Zuko could see that with his own eyes, and that they could just go start anew elsewhere. The truth was that if his brother wanted Zuko to return, he would have already ordered it. He sighed, putting his brush down. He’d finish the letter another time, he was sleepy and needed to rest.   
Iroh stood from his seat and went to the bed, ready to float away into a deep slumber, unaware of events about to occur as he dreamt.   
___________

Adorning his head with a traditional Fire Nation Helmet, Zuko prepared to fight the Avatar, mentally and physically readying himself. This was going to be the fight of his life - the fight to revive his old life and his old self.

All he needed to do was capture the Avatar.  
Difficult, but not impossible.

Nothing was impossible.

The harsh sounds and vibrations caused by their vessel splitting the ice beneath them made adrenaline spike in Zuko’s spine. Failure was not an option. He was going to win and capture the Avatar - he constantly reminded himself of this, never releasing the statement from his head, hyperfixated on the only thing that could restore his honour.  
Restoring his honour was the most important thing in his life, right now. Nothing else was more important than that. Nothing.

The ship docked, and Zuko stood proudly at the ship’s bow, immediately storming down with Princely valour when the platform was settled, his soldiers by his side. Some Water Tribe…warrior-wannabe attempted to run up the platform and attack him; something which, if the circumstances weren’t dire, Zuko would’ve found rather amusing - but his task, he reminded himself over and over, was to find and capture the Avatar. He did not have time for child’s play with wannabe warriors.  
So he kicked the boy away without a shred of difficulty, determination burning in his dark eyes. The gasps from the Water Tribe sounded almost like a sweet melody of power to Zuko, and the fear growing inside the eyes of these pitiful villagers was a sight to behold. He could understand, in moments like these, why his Father was so adamant on intimidation and power; they were vital for any good ruler to have. Fear was necessary to be a leader.

Only fools were kind-

A heavenly image flashed in his mind of the beautiful girl from his past for a fraction of a second before he suppressed all thoughts of her, locking them inside a metal box in the back of his mind, replacing any thoughts of her with the task he was to accomplish. He had no time for distractions, even if, at his core, Zuko wanted nothing more than to think of her. She already haunted his dreams, he didn’t need her ruining his days with her memory refusing to leave him be.  
For a moment, he looked at the young children who glanced upon his form with pure terror and his heart pulled and churned, but he swallowed the coal of empathy into the pits of his stomach and kept moving.  
He had no time for feelings right now. He had to capture the Avatar.

Although he refused to actively acknowledge the abundant existence of Li (Y/N) in his head, her words and his memories of her sunk into his psyche and he knew without needing to consider it that if she’d been there she would’ve tried to - foolishly - comfort these pitiful children. For someone with an amazingly dark, unheard of power she was too naive and hopeful; always too quick to please.  
It was pathetic.  
But even if he couldn’t admit it, even to himself, he envied her capacity for empathy and care whilst simultaneously viewing those traits as pathetic - but his mother’s teachings and (Y/N)’s gentleness remained in the subconscious corners of his mind, unknown to him at the time. Those memories painted golden specs in a mind plagued with bitterness and self-pity. “Where are you hiding him?” The question was simple. He demanded an answer.  
No one responded, frustration welling within him as he clenched his jaw and pulled the nearest old hag towards him, “He’d be about this age,” Zuko’s eyes narrowed at the gaping Tribe members; it was an unspoken warning for them all.  
To prove his point, Zuko flashed a small show of flames that licked the tops of the villagers’ heads, instilling a deep sense of alarm within them. He was going to be feared and respected.

The lessons his Father had taught him were important, he knew that, now.  
He wished he’d realised the importance of bravery and using fear as a way to control others before, but what was done was done.  
All he could do now was re-gain his honour and never again repeat the mistake of doubting his Father.  
He was finally shaping up to be the “perfect son”, at least it seemed like it. Hearing the petty roar of the boy from earlier, he subtly rolled his eyes and moved to the side, throwing the boy across the land into the snow. Was this really the best the Water Tribe could do?  
This was going to get annoying real fast - Zuko was losing his patience and was going to go insane if they didn’t reveal the location of the Avatar. He knew they were keeping him here.  
They had to be.

___________

Once he laid his eyes upon the Avatar, he scoffed in disdained shock. The Avatar - the fabled Last Airbender - was supposed to be a wise old man who had a century to master all the elements. He wasn’t supposed to be younger than Zuko himself!

At least he knew this was going to be easier than he thought, smirking to himself at the prospect of an easy victory. He felt disappointed; he’d expected a grand battle to fight for his honour and if he was honest this turn of events both excited and upset him; at least he would get to return home, honour restored, with minimal effort.

On the other hand…this wasn’t how he’d wanted this to go down. He’d spent three excruciating years fantasising over and over about how he was going to defeat the Avatar, how he was going to meet his match and accomplish the unthinkable. Years of meditation and endless practice all led to this moment; fighting someone who was younger than *him*.

But at the very least, this would be quick, painless and easy for him; and soon he was going to be back home, where he belonged.

…With (Y/N), where he belonged.

___________

Staring at the chaos caused by the Avatar and his dreaded friends, Zuko assessed the damages made to his ship from the ice that had fallen onto them, gaping as they flew away - mocking him - on their stupid flying bison.  
The ship, trapped partly under the icy snow, was going to be a chore to uncover. He could only hope that no serious damage was dealt to the structure.

He had seriously underestimated the Avatar. He could see, now, how he managed to evade everyone for one hundred years.  
He was sly and intelligent. Clearly he somehow found a way to keep his body young through the years.

“Good news for the Firelord,” Iroh’s voice cut through the heavy tension of defeat in the air, “The Fire Nation’s greatest threat is just a little kid.”  
The statement flashed a lightning bolt of chagrin vexation through Zuko, turning to face his elder. “That kid, uncle, just did this.” he gestured to the mess that had become of their ship as his uncle slept.  
“I won’t underestimate him again.” He swore, not to his uncle, but to himself. And, deep inside, he made the oath for (Y/N)’s sake, too. He would not underestimate the Avatar again and next time he was going to be successful.

He would beat the Avatar at his own game now that he knew what he was capable of, and he would return and be everything everyone wanted him to be; and more.  
And his Father would love him and (Y/N) would love him and the kingdom itself would love him.

He would be beloved at long last, and all he had to do was win.  
This was the last time he would taste the bitter taste of defeat on his lips. Next time, the Avatar would be brought to the Fire Nation and taken as a prisoner for his Father to so with as he pleased.

___________

Iroh sat at his desk in utter disbelief.  
It was true, then? The legendary Avatar did exist, after all this time - after all these generations, the myth turned out to be true.  
How strange.  
Once again he sat with papyrus and ink beside him, needing to write to young Li (Y/N), his mind scrambled, words escaping him like coarse sand through fingers.

He was in complete shock, sitting alone in his quarters as he pondered over the events that had taken place as he slept. He cursed his tiredness, only dreaming about seeing the Avatar himself in action - not just the ending parts of it.  
Oh, he was sure it was a fight to behold. It certainly caused its fair share of troubles for them; not to mention the Avatar managed to rile his nephew up quite a bit. Still, he was unsure whether to inform (Y/N) of what had occurred; ignorance was bliss - perhaps she did not need to know this, maybe keeping the Avatar’s existence would be for the best?  
Ever since he could remember, he had always had his family’s best interests in mind. His father’s interests, his brother’s interests, his wife’s interests and, of course; his son’s best interests, and that only branched out further towards Ursa and her children. Family had always been the most vital thing to Iroh.  
Li (Y/N) had been something Iroh never really had; an almost-daughter. She was an excitable but ladylike young girl, always asking about his adventures and quests in the different Earth Colonies, but knew better, even in her youth, than to ask about Ba Sing Se and what happened there.

The young girl had been an honorary part of their family, at least in Iroh’s eyes - and in Ursa’s, too, he was sure. Which was why it saddened Iroh so immensely to know that the only reason for (Y/N)’s constant presence at court was her power. The very power which visibly shook her to the core of emotional stability was the only virtue she possessed in the eyes of everyone else around her. Even back when he was still a different man; a crueller, much more twisted man; he felt disgust growing in his bones whenever he witnessed the poor girl forced to use her bloodbending against her will.  
A tragic sight; a child weeping and begging not to do something was already enough to break one’s heart, but when that child was being forced by everyone around them to commit immoral acts…well, even Iroh couldn’t deny that a part of him wished the now-young-maiden would have chosen exile and left with them. But she didn’t, and she hadn’t, and now the best thing he could do is accept her decision to remain at the imperial court, even if he personally felt she had nothing for her, there.  
Would telling her about the Avatar’s real existence do more good than harm? Would it breed unattainable hopes and desires that could never be realised?

As much as Iroh loved the idea of Zuko finally being happy, he knew better than to assume capturing the Avatar would be that easy.  
If anything - and he would not dare speak this aloud, lest Zuko turn against him - a large part of him wished for true, lasting peace, a future without Fire Nation military conquests for bloodthirst and power. A future where the Avatar keeps balance over the world like in the stories from his youth. 

Iroh also knew better than to think Zuko could be happy.  
As much as he liked to believe he would, someday, be, Iroh had a feeling of dread that his nephew would never be satisfied. The ambitions held by the Fire Nation’s only prince were shallow in their nature and Iroh knew from experience they would never bring his nephew any inner-harmony or joy.

In the end, he decided to only mention the celestial lights and the fact Zuko believed it to be the Avatar, leaving the initial fight out of the letter - at the very least for the time being. With time he would reveal this news to her if she wouldn’t already find out through the grapevine, but he did not want her to hold onto the possibility of a future in which Zuko returns to her when he did not know this to be a certain outcome.  
Hope was vital, but hope could also be deadly.  
Three years had passed, and he felt as though his nephew and his once-bride should both move on with their lives and go their separate paths. They did not write to each other, nor did they have any real contact at all, but in (Y/N)’s letters and Zuko’s yearning stares aimed at the moon on the ship’s deck late at night (which Zuko argued was just him unable to sleep and planning fighting strategies), he could tell. Iroh knew that neither (Y/N) nor Zuko were over one another, and that their youthful hearts beat for the other. Oh, the power of young love.

Iroh wondered about whether it would do them some good to re-connect. Perhaps it would be cathartic for both youths if they could communicate and gain peace and accept their respective choices in life, parting ways that way, gaining closure?  
To his letter, he added the small suggestion of writing a letter for Zuko next time she’d write, as well; stating it could be something hopeful for Zuko; something to keep him going. He then rolled the scroll up and sealed it, opening his window. (Y/N) had an hawk named (hawk’s Name - H/N) who she used to send their letters in secrecy. (H/N) came to him once every three days after delivering a letter from (Y/N) until Iroh finally had a response to send, it was now a habit for both Iroh and the hawk that they’d fly through the window, Iroh would give them a treat and send them back on their journey to the Fire Nation with the scroll.  
And that was exactly what happened.

___________

You always found time to be a strange thing. You never understood it.  
Time evaded you. It teased you. It mocked you.  
You could never quite feel “one” with it. Three years had come and gone, and everything felt different and the same.  
You wondered, then, whether you would get permission to see your mother soon. It has been a while, now, since you’d last been permitted to see the woman who had given life to you. You hoped she was doing well back home, and that your father was treating her well. Often, you wished she could stay at the imperial court with you; but that couldn’t be. It just “wasn’t done”.  
Your father didn’t even stay at court for long periods of time - only if the Firelord summoned him for meetings or for military matters - the Firelord himself was travelling so often as of late, however, trying to plan a way to siege Ba Sing Se, that even he was rarely at the palace.  
You could no longer recall what your home looked like; the memory faded with time.  
Azula was adamant on never letting you leave the palace grounds if it was not without guards or her - something about how “if there were any rebels they would try to take you in order to slow the Fire Nation’s brilliant progress with sharing their gifts with the world.” - Or something similar.   
The Firelord agreed with his daughter’s statement - whether it was out of care for you or simply because you were a powerful ally to have under him, you doubted you would ever fully know. But you did know that you owed the Firelord your life and even if he saw you as nothing more than a useful commodity and a weapon, you would happily play the role.  
But you did wish they would let you visit your mother.  
She hated coming to visit the court just to see you, you were not naive enough to delude yourself otherwise. She disliked being so close to the Fire Nation officials and you couldn’t blame her, given her own past.  
Still, you wished she would be just a little nicer to you.  
Didn’t your mother realise how much you loved her?

Thoughts of your mother brought crystal tears to your eyes that you blinked away when you saw your beloved hawk sharply cut across the skies towards you and perched itself on your arm. “(H/N).” Your hawk hoarsely screeched in greeting. You smiled at (H/N), and stepped back into your chambers from outside on your balcony where you had been standing and contemplating life.  
“I missed you, little one,” You spoke with an almost maternal air, stroking (H/N)’s feathery head and taking the scroll from its secured place, going to your doors and locking them.  
You wanted no interruptions.

Walking over to your desk you sat yourself down, mixing water with your dried ink palette and getting a dry brush to use in preparation.  
Untying the ribbon securing the scroll, you read Iroh’s latest letter in anticipation. Placing the paper down, a forlorn sighed fell from your lips and (H/N) perched itself onto your shoulder, nuzzling into your head in comfort, sensing your distress. “Thank you, little one.” You whispered, and re-read the letter thrice more.

Iroh had suggested you ought to write a letter to Zuko - to set a real communication with him after three long years of silence.  
You did not know whether you could do something like that, though; it was unthinkable. You have never really considered it, despite having been writing to Iroh for all this time. It was somewhat embarrassing to you, but when he’d been here Iroh was a goodly presence in your life. A goodly male presence in your life, specifically.  
Your father was gone half the time; you were living away from home since the age of six and as much as you liked to deceive yourself even you realised he did not go out of his way to care for you.  
As much as you adored and worshipped the Firelord, it was ridiculous to ever even consider viewing him as a fatherly figure in your father’s stead; he was your superior, and your saviour, but he was to be feared.  
Iroh, however, cared.  
He had helped you many times when he was here and you’d been grateful for him, and were grateful still.  
Taking the risk and writing to him, thus, was not something you needed to spend much time contemplating; you knew that you wanted contact with him. It was selfish of you and stupid of you, maybe, but you liked having some of Iroh’s wisdom in your life, even like this.  
You could only pray no one would ever discover this secret, though.

But to write to Zuko…that was unthinkable and frightening. Did he even remember you? Did he think of you as often as you thought of him? Did he miss you?  
Thousands of questions filled your mind daily, but never as intensely as they did at this every moment. Did Zuko ask Iroh to write that? Did he know you’d been exchanging letters with Iroh for the past two years?  
Groaning quietly you clicked your tongue in annoyance aimed at yourself; why must you overthink everything?  
Picking up the brush with a shaky wrist, the obsidian liquid stained the smooth bristles with dark elegance.

Iroh was right. Maybe, just maybe…reaching out would not be so bad. You were already playing a dangerous game writing to Iroh - writing to Zuko brought you no extra risk, since they were both exiles…right?  
Logically you knew that wasn’t true and that if you were caught writing letters addressed to the banished prince and not just to the once-glorious Dragon of the West, you would be believed to be conspiring against the Fire Nation, even if that was no the case.  
But this…well, it was dangerous - but you were trying to convince yourself that since you’ve already been sending these letters left and right, and no one caught you yet, that you would be safe. The truth was you missed Zuko so dearly and it felt like a part of you had been taken into exile with him.  
But you didn’t regret staying, either, and given the choice, you would’ve repeated your decision again and again. 

Because Azula needed you more.

Pressing brush to paper, you started to write.  
When both letters had been completed, you allowed them time to dry, playing with (H/N). “You’re a very dear friend to me,” You told them, kissing their little hawk head. (H/N) had been a gift from Azula five years prior, after she decided that you needed your very own bird to send letters and communications with and ever since then you could not imagine life without (H/N), they were a valuable friend and companion. You loved your lovely little hawk.

“I need you to take these back to Iroh and Zuko,” You whispered, securing the dried letters, kissing their head and stroking under their jaw, “Travel safely, okay?” Screeching in response, (H/N) nodded and flew out your balcony doors, into the skies above.  
They were such a dutiful hawk.

___________

“Do it!”  
“I…I…” Your blurry eyes focused on the battered, bruised and bloodied people around you, the late-night sky empowering you. All you could do was be thankful that the moon was not yet full, or else you were unsure whether you would be able to control yourself from being an unrestrained destructive force.  
“(Y/N), what are you waiting for!?” The voice of Li Yang called out from the spectator seats above on the wall of the fighting arena, fearing his daughter’s capacity for empathy was going to turn him into someone to be ridiculed.

And yet, you could not go through with it. The handful of prisoners were begging you to stop, crying for their misplaced bones and their blood flowed from their noses and mouths uncontrollably as their bodies were contorted by your bending, forcing them into unnatural positions.

Your father’s commands were unspoken. Finish them. Take life from their eyes.

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to be a true harbourer of death - before she disappeared Princess Ursa had taught you the value of all life and without some immediate medical attention, you knew some of the people before you were going to succumb to their injuries. Injuries they would not be suffering from now if it hadn’t been for you.  
“I…” You gulped, the mucus in the back of your throat felt coarse and sharp as you swallowed bile at the sight of pools of blood and oozing wounds.

Lifting up your arms you focused on two of the war prisoners, who screamed and begged for mercy as their bodies took an inhuman shape and bent backwards. How could you have not heard their screams before? Had you truly been so…out-of-it that you could easily ignore the pleading of those you harmed? How you could be so…merciless during these fights, you did not know; all you knew was at this point you tended to completely flow outside of your own body and escape deep into your mind when ‘training’ occurred - only to realise the horrors of your actions when your mind became whole once more.

Li Yang smirked to himself from his seat amongst the other generals and admirals. Was his daughter finally going to do it? After all these years of vigorous training, was she at long last about to realise her true purpose was supposed to be deadly, unstoppable, raw? Would she willingly take lives of those worthless Earth kingdom peasants? Certainly, she was getting there. It seemed she was getting closer to breaking with every month’s session.  
Knowing that this was something your father approved of, and surely the Firelord would approve of, you grit your teeth, heart pounding in your chest and sounding in your ears as you shut your eyes and focused, preparing to snap their spines. Adrenaline flowed through your veins.

“She won’t do it.”

Li Yang turned towards the young Princess, staring at her with puzzled respect. “How can you be so sure, Princess?”  
Azula looked at the father of her childhood friend as though he were the stupidest man on the planet, causing him to clench his jaw. He hated when the Princess asserted her title and acted like she was the smartest brat in the world, and by the Gods, if he could, he would scold her for it; unfortunately for him, he had to be respectful and stay in his lane - she was the child of the Firelord and his heir. The ravenette simply tsked, clicking her tongue as though he were a bothersome little creature, “Tell me, General Li,” her tone was smug, challenging, “Are you stupid - or just so inattentive - that you can’t even tell when your own daughter is faltering?”  
“I…!” He took a deep breath and forced a smile on his face, hands in fists under his seat. “What do you mean, Princess?”  
Azula rolled her eyes, lounging casually on her lavish seat, crossing her legs.  
“She’s about to snap their necks - look at her!” He gestured to (Y/N)’s hold, arms raised up tensely.

“She’s faltering. She won’t do it - not this time, at least. Her arms are shaking.”

General Li bit his tongue, staring down at his daughter who was moments away from ending the miserable lives of two of the war prisoners whilst the other battered and bruised peasants laid in their own blood puddles of misery, watching as his offspring showcased the ability of her powers against them, sucking all hope of future salvation from their souls.  
And to think he didn’t believe his daughter could ever be useful to him when she was first born.  
She was going to prove the Princess wrong - he knew it. She had to, she was going to overcome the disgusting empathy instilled into her by her mother in her early developmental years and once she took her first - willing - life, he had no doubt it would become easier for her to kill.

Like father like daughter, no?  
Li Yang could recall the very first life he ever took. He recalled the pressure he felt and the deep-rooted horror - both feelings he now proud of because he did the one thing he found immoral and it made him strong.  
Just like it was about to make his daughter strong. Anticipation grew, and General Li and all others found themselves leaning in closer to watch her take her first lives - well, she’s already killed before, but never before had it been an intentional killing.  
Azula, in contrast, leaned back, using a buffer on her long nails - Princesses had to be presentable, after all. 

Screams of past and present victims collided in your mind and tears flooded down your face and fell onto the ground below. Lowering your arms, you fell to your knees, head shaking. “I can’t! I can’t…I…”  
You just wanted the screams to stop. Make them stop, make them stop, make them stop!  
Placing your dainty hands over your ears you shook her head from side to side, looking up at the fearful Earth Kingdom prisoners, the horror in their eyes hitting you hard as they huddled together, away from you.

You were a monster.

Li Yang breathed heavily, irritation turning to anger, anger becoming rage and rage transforming him into a livid being. He stood abruptly, glaring at his daughter from the wall and growling to himself. Weak. She was weak and unworthy of the power she wields!  
Hands tightly clenched the iron barrier, he turned and stormed off the side, going down to the arena.  
The soldiers, meanwhile, took the still-breathing war prisoners inside, back to their confinements. Azula raised her eyebrows as she watched General Li walk down the wall, sitting up properly and placing her buffer on the small table beside her - where her assortments of treats lay.

“(Y/N)!”  
Your father’s enraged tone brought you out of your minor breakdown and tearful refusal to intentionally steal the lives of others; staring up at him like a pathetic, kicked puppy. “F-Father-”  
“You’re weak.” He growled down at you, spitting at the ground next to you, causing you to swallow back tears and as you tried to argue, “N-No, I…I just…I don’t want to be violent to people who haven’t done anything wrong-”  
“-They’re prisoners of war, you ungrateful child!”  
Flinching, you stared down at the ground, knowing that any attempt to look into your father’s eyes would result in disaster for you.  
“They’re here because they’re a threat. A threat to your nation - to your Firelord.”  
“You are inadequate as a daughter and subject, and I am ashamed of you.”  
Your father’s words pierced through you.  
“You should be able to do this by now. You can’t protect your nation if you refuse to get your hands dirty. We all have sacrifices to make,” General Li hissed, holding himself back from kicking his daughter’s pitiful form.  
Some child Tapeesa had bred him - couldn’t she have taken after him, more? Shakily, you raised yourself, still facing down. “Forgive me, father.”  
“…” He was beyond furious. His daughter was too weak-willed to kill any of those worthless rats. She did not deserve the place she stood in, and because of her frailty, she made a fool of him, too; laughing stock of the army; the General whose daughter was a powerful weakling.

Raising his hand, (Y/N) whimpered, preparing for the public humiliation of having her own father strike her, but the expected impact never arrived, her face unstained by the red patch of a slap mark.  
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, General.” Azula’s voice was smooth and threatening, tightly holding General Li’s hand in the air. He gasped and you stared in shocked relief as Azula stood in your defence.  
“My father will be pleased with her progress. And unlike you, General Li, the Firelord does not much care for mindless murders. Tell me; should I inform my father of your lust for bloodthirst?”  
Your father stared at the Princess with apprehension, trying to get his arm out of her grip, but she was stronger than she seemed.  
“(Y/N) has made sufficient progress with improving her bending and she can perform moves once thought to be impossible or tremendously difficult. Firelord Ozai will be satisfied and, dare I say it, proud.” She released his hand and he retracted it, hissing in mild pain.  
She seemed both agitated and disinterested at once.  
“If either myself or the Firelord were unsatisfied with her current skills, you would be made aware of it. For the meantime, I suggest you focus on honing your own inadequate skills. With all due respect, General, watching you firebend is a travesty.”

With that she grabbed your hand, dragging you out of the blood-stained arena. You spared one last glance at your father, sorrow filling your heart as he glared at you, blame evident in his face; he blamed you for his own embarrassment.

You were a failure.

___________

“Thank you.”  
Your words broke the silence that filled the space between you and your childhood friend, the sky in the windows a velvet canvas abundant with stars.  
After dragging you away, Azula ordered the maids to draw a bath for you and then take you back to her chambers.  
“You wouldn’t need to thank me if you weren’t so determined to be so terribly feeble-willed.”  
“…Azula…”  
The Princess sighed, shaking her head as she locked her amber eyes with (e/c) ones from the reflection of the mirror.  
“Come here,” she ordered and you obeyed, walking over to the vanity table where Azula was seated at. Azula handed you a beautifully hand-crafted hairbrush and you knew what to do. Skilfully, you removed the royal ornament from her midnight-coloured tresses and set the hair loose.  
Azula had such lovely hair.

“You’re lucky I was there,” she retorted, smugly, staring at you through the mirror as you stood behind her and moved the brush through her hair. “I know,” you whispered, “I always am.”

Azula always saved you.  
For as long as you could remember, she would step in and protect you. When you asked her why, she’d vaguely snap about how ‘you were a valuable asset for the nation’, but like with many things, you knew that the truth was simple; she cared about you.

“What I said was true, though,” She admitted, “You are improving. Your skills are becoming fluid and swift, so at least we know you’re not a lost cause.”  
If you were anybody else you might just be offended by the things Azula said, but you knew her. You knew what she said wasn’t always what she meant, and you could tell the things she did mean.  
Hearing her say you weren’t ‘a lost cause’ meant more than a thousand compliments.

“He’s right about one thing, though,” Azula’s reflection narrowed its eyes at you. “You will have to, eventually, do everything in your ability to complete tasks. Once my father decides that you’re ready he’s going to send you on conquests - you’re aware of this, right?” Judgement flowed from her words, but you paid it little mind, “And as much as I know you pity those below you - I don’t know what for, they’re all just a bunch of plebeians,” She looked down at her well-managed nails, nonchalantly, “they’re below us-” she almost gasped at her slip-up, quickly correcting herself, “Below you - for a reason,” She cleared her throat, hating the subtle blink-and-you’ll-miss-it blush that appeared on her cheeks for the fraction of second.  
You said nothing, brushing through her hair but she could see your soft smile and blushing cheeks in the mirror’s reflection. Her slip-up had been noticed by you - the insinuation that you and she were on the same level in Azula’s mind.

“Just like you’re below me - you know, because I’m the Princess,” She added with concealed panic. It’s not as though you were actually important to her. You were just valuable to her and her father. You were just…someone who would be useful. A useful object for her to play with. An object…whose company was enjoyable.

But that was all.

Perhaps she did hold some fondness towards you because you grew up with her but she didn’t need you, or anyone else, but herself.  
But obviously, you needed her. You needed her and so; she was going to be gracious enough to grant you her attention and time of day. For your sake and comfort, and definitely not for hers. Not at all.

In fact, if you left it’s not like she’d even care. You could’ve chosen to be exiled with Zuko and she would have simply laughed at the foolish decision - but you didn’t, and she approved of you making the correct choice. …but she didn’t understand why her heart clenched so painfully beneath her ribs at the concept of you leaving, so she ignored it, refusing to acknowledge it was there.

“You’re weak.” She announced with an unprompted coldness, causing you to stop brushing and grip the handle of the golden brush harshly.  
You hated that word. Weak.  
But it was an honest description of you - you were weak, as everyone around you constantly had to remind you.  
Weak because you were too empathetic, too quick to cry and too cowardly to hurt others. You were so much of a coward that most of the time you’d mentally escape and dissociate yourself completely instead of grounding yourself and having the strength to fight others head-on.  
“…I know,” You responded solemnly, dutifully continuing to brush through her long locks, “forgive me for my weakness, Princess.”

Usually, such an obedient response would have spread a sadistic glee in Azula, but tonight that was not the case. If anything the distant tone of your voice and use of honorific seemed too strange; too outlandish to bring her any satisfaction.  
“…But that’s okay,” She sighed, unsure why but she felt an unexpected desire to comfort you. What was wrong with her lately!?  
Leaning away from your touch, gesturing for you to cease the brushing, she turned to face you.  
“Because you have me to make sure you don’t get hurt.”

The statement was unusual, coming from her of all people - and if the surprise in her own eyes was anything to go off of, it was just as new for her as it was for you.  
“-because you’re useful to me, that is. And I need you healthy and unharmed.”

That did not stop the skip of your heart and the sweet smile on your face as you nodded. “Of course. Thank you, your highness.”  
Relief flooded through Azula, unbeknownst to you, when you smiled.  
She liked your smile. She liked it almost as much as she liked your tears. But in that moment there was a need to make you happy. To prove to herself that she could make you happy, more than Zuko ever did.  
She was the superior sibling in everything, and therefore surely she was the one you preferred.  
Even if…even if in the past you’d blatantly favoured Zuko  
It wasn’t fair her useless disgrace of a brother got the affection she should have had. But clearly all that affection had made him grow up to be too soft, so she reminded herself she shouldn’t be jealous. And she wasn’t..!  
She wasn’t jealous of Zuko in the slightest - what was there to be jealous of? The fact you were once engaged to him? The fact that you would spend so much time with him growing up? The fact you ignored the newest demonstrations of her amazing firebending skills just because Zuko fell over and scraped his knee and “needed your help”?

Of course, she wasn’t envious or jealous of those past instances.  
Especially since Zuko was no longer a threat. You were her favourite toy and she was thankful she didn’t have to share you with anyone, now. Placing the brush down, you turned to go back to your chambers, both you and Azula tired - especially you. Your muscles burned and body felt so heavy and fragile after having used such intense bloodbending only an hour or so prior, you couldn’t wait to fall into the land of dreams.  
“…Where are you going?”  
You paused, turning around, “To my chambers?”  
Azula frowned, standing up, her arms crossed as she leaned against the vanity table, “Limping like that? Please,” she scoffed, emitting a sarcastic laugh from her throat, “You’re dizzy.”

You forgot, sometimes, that she knew you just as well as you knew her.  
Not to mention she was observant, seeming to know your body language and how you acted and what you thought. You were feeling dizzy and sickly, trying to conceal it by leaning against the doorway. “I’ll be fine, Princess.”

“Yeah, you say that, and then you’ll give some maid the fright of her life believing you died in the hallways come dawn when they find you fainted in the corridor.”  
Hesitantly, she bit down on her lip, “So just shut up and rest. Here.”  
You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling, even in your exhausted and internally wounded state. This wasn’t a rare occurrence - but not a common one, either; Azula didn’t have you sleep in the same room as her often. But you had a feeling tonight was a bad night for her, just as it was for you - was she having nightmares about Ursa again?  
She never told you about them, but she’d whimper her mother’s name in her dreams, sometimes, and other times she would awake, startled.  
You used to sleep in her chambers often when you’d been young girls, but that changed as you matured into young women.  
Still, old habits died hard, you supposed. Nodding, you stumbled your way over to the huge crimson bed and wished her goodnight. She rolled her eyes and then closed them.  
Before long, you were fast asleep.

Azula opened her eyes when she heard your adorable snores and rolled over to look at you, smiling to herself.  
You were a very pretty toy.  
So pretty she hated how easy it was for you to make her flustered. Not that you would ever know that, though - but she had a feeling you already knew the power you had over her. She hated it, so, so much.  
Azula made sure you were asleep, and then gently moved her body closer to yours on the bed, close together. In your sleep, your hand reached for hers and it momentarily took her breath away, but then she, too, succumbed to sleep. …Affection wasn’t always that terrible.

___________

A red-tailed hawk reached an iron ship, allowed through the window of one of the quarters by Iroh, who smiled as he saw two letters - one for himself and one…for Zuko.  
He thanked the bird, and gave him a treat, allowing (H/N) to rest the night in his quarters as he walked up to the deck, where he unsurprisingly found Prince Zuko internally monologuing to himself, no doubt, re-living his epic failure.

“Prince Zuko.”  
“Uncle,” He called out, turning to see him, bags under his eyes.  
“I brought you something.”  
“What is it…?”  
Iroh held out the scroll, “A letter from someone special.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3 Please comment and give a kudos if you enjoyed, they really help a lot <3 <3 <3


	4. Chapter Three: Perfect Lies

Harsh grunts and sharp intakes of air was all (Y/N) heard as she eagerly observed her childhood friend move with an aggressive grace around the training grounds, sending cerulean flames around the skies above them.

You sat perfectly still on the sidelines, alongside Lo and Li, who were also in charge of looking after Azula. Every movement she made was inspiring and kept you on the edge of your seat. There was not a single person who had as much elegance and raw power as Azula, at the very least in your eyes. Perhaps, you were biased, but that was just the simple truth for you. 

You loved her - she was your *dearest friend*, after all - and you had watched her skill and power increase over the many years.   
It seemed strange, these days, thinking about how young you all had once been and even more still; the realisation that time had passed you all by so fast. It seemed as if it was only yesterday when you would take long walks at dusk with Zuko, and have sleepovers with Azula and Mai at Ty-Lee’s house. Those days of your youth that have faded into nothing but memories.  
Memories you would never get to re-live again.  
Azula told you that you spent too much time looking back at the past and in many ways you knew she was right.   
At the same time, however, how could you stop yourself from idealising the past which you craved to return to so deeply, so vehemently? In your youth things had been so much easier - Zuko was here by your side and so was Princess Ursa, and you were permitted to visit your mother often and you still recalled how she would brush your (H/C) tresses, humming old Southern Water Tribe lullabies to get you to sleep.   
The idea of even upholding a single conversation with your mother now seemed far too unlikely, not to mention how rarely you were even allowed to go see her. You cherished every single moment with her, and you loved her. You loved your mother so much, and you knew she would never understand that. 

More often than you would ever admit, especially to anyone around you - Azula, the Firelord, your father - you wondered about what life would have been like if only you hadn’t ever discovered your bloodbending. If, by some chance, it hadn’t been the full moon the night of that forsaken Royal Ball. 

If only you had never stolen the light of life from the eyes of those men. 

A life where your mother and you would’ve remained side-by-side - a life free from responsibilities or duties that required bloodshed.   
But such a future would have also been difficult. Your father had always seen you as having little worth before the incident. Most girls, you noted, were Daddy’s Little Girls - each a princess in her father’s eyes. That was never you.   
Until you revealed yourself to be a useful asset of destruction, he had little to no interest in a waterbending child. It’d only been after the events of that horrid night that all turned around - suddenly he was attentive, interested in you in a way he had never been before - all the while your own mother slipped away from you, undoubtedly disgusted by you.   
You could not blame her. 

How long had it been since you’d last seen her? It must’ve been almost a year, now. Would they allow you to see her soon, then?   
You hoped they would - you missed her. 

A loud groan of frustration woke you up from your mental musings and you blinked, taking in the sight in front of you; Azula stood, heavily breathing with a hair out of place, raging annoyance burning within her eyes.   
Your eyebrows furrowed in empathy, knowing immediately what had happened, even if you had not been paying as much attention as perhaps you should have been.   
Before you entered your personal philosophical mindscape you had seen her practising firebending with such gracious excellence - her form, her strength and her bending never failed to take your breath away.   
In a nation abundant with firebenders, she was the best one to ever grace the Earth. The thought erupted a sensation of guilt that fluttered like a cloudy moth inside of your heart, feeling as though your belief in some way betrayed Zuko, but you told yourself that you were merely stating facts.   
Zuko was a brilliant man, talented in his own ways - but he was never as much of a firebender as Azula was. With enough training, you were certain he could’ve matched her excellence, but at the same time, Azula had always been a prodigy. 

Azula was right - you were far too full of thoughts for your own good.   
Rising from your cushioned seat you took in a gentle breath, walking over to her, “Azula…” Your tone was one of comfort that Azula would never confess worked to ease her stress. “Don’t speak to me like that,” Her glare would melt anyone else but you, because you knew her.   
And you loved her more than you feared her.

“Like what, my Princess?” You asked, but it was mostly just out of manner and courtesy, you knew what she meant. “With pathetic pity,” Insecurity swam within her eyes, mixing with anger aimed towards herself. “I’m not some weakling who needs sympathy, I’m not-”   
“-I know, Azula,” You cut her off, praying she would not comment on your abrupt behaviour but you didn’t want her to say what you knew she was about to say - *I’m not like Zuko*.   
In a perfect world, Azula and Zuko would have a good familial relationship, but this was not a perfect world.   
“I apologise if I made you think that I was insinuating anything negative,” You spoke slowly and softly - in a way you learnt didn’t set her off. Being around her, you found, was a lot like walking on eggshells. One wrong word or movement and one could easily be the victim of her rage.   
“In fact...You’re the strongest, most amazing and powerful person I know.” You meant each syllable that left your lips. 

Feeling the gaze of Lo and Li on the two of you made you somewhat nervous to use her name so casually, but you always knew that because of the special childhood-friends relationship you had with her, certain behaviours were accepted.

With a healthy amount of hesitation, you took her hand in yours, having her look up into your eyes. You could tell she cursed herself for her imperfection. Your heart fluttered in your chest. 

“You *almost* had it - the moves you’re doing are Master firebending moves, Azula,” You reminded her, knowing that she needed you to sometimes be there to assure her she’s doing good, though she never would tell that to you, “They’re difficult because they’re meant for firebenders with decades of training,” Azula huffed, muttering something clearly sarcastic that you didn’t catch, but you continued, “These are moves that no one else our age could even fathom attempting.”   
Your words seemed to strike new confidence inside of her, and she nodded in agreement,   
“Well, of course. I *am* a *prodigy*.” Azula spoke as though this was the most obvious fact - except no matter how much she tried to make it seem otherwise, you knew that she was mostly assuring herself of her superiority to those around her. 

Your grip on her hands was gentle and assuring. A bold move for you to have done, but one you had felt necessary - Azula was like you - touch-starved.   
Sometimes you both needed affection, and if you could give her even a drop of what she needed, that was enough for you.   
“Yes,” You nodded in agreement, “You’re an amazing prodigy, your highness,” Azula’s hands were incredibly warm - undoubtedly because she had just been practising her bending.   
“Everyone who lays their eyes upon you is instantly awe-struck. Myself included.”   
Try as you both may neither you nor Azula could conceal the cherry-blossom blushes on your cheeks, and for a moment you wondered why your heart pounded within your chest so intensely.   
Unbeknownst to you, Azula was having the exact same issue figuring out why she felt so...warm, around you, and why her heart felt as if it was about to jump out of her chest at any moment.   
She hated it.   
She loved it.   
She wanted to push you far away and never let you touch her again,  
She wanted you to wrap yourself around her and never let her go.   
Why did you have to make everything so confusing for her? 

Clearing her throat and turning her face away from you, Azula pulled her hand out of yours, crossing her arms.   
“You say that as though it isn’t something I already know,” Her casual dismissal was expected, and yet you didn’t know why having her pull away caused your chest to clench tightly. “I don’t need *you*, of all people, to be telling me how great I am. I already know.”   
What had you been expecting? You acted boldly, and you were lucky she didn’t get angry.   
Azula...confused you. It was difficult to understand where you stood - both generally in court, but also in her life. Before, you had been her brother’s fiancee, a childhood friend and future sister-in-law.   
Now, you were her exiled brother’s ex-fiancee, an old childhood friend and nothing more than a courtier. Indeed, things had been much simpler in your past - these days the atmosphere was tense and awkward between you both. Some days, Azula seemed almost needy for your attention, but others she would shun you. There were days you blamed yourself for having angered her in some unknown way, but then there’d be times where she would make you feel special - in her own subtle, somewhat arrogant, way.   
You wished you could see inside her head, just for a moment, to know what she saw when she looked at you. Did she care about you? She had to, you knew that she cared about you, but sometimes you wondered whether you remaining at court was the right thing for her.   
There were a few times when she became enraged and accused you of being a distraction to her - hearing those words probably hurt you more than any physical harm she could do to you. Not that Azula ever harmed you beyond some bruises from when she would grab your wrist too harshly or shove you away from her. Those times were rare and few in-between, and you understood she had much anger swimming inside of her she needed to expel.   
And if you could make her feel just that tiny bit better even if it was at your own cost, then so be it.   
For Azula, you would do anything. 

Meanwhile Lo and Li turned the gazes from (Y/N) and Azula back to themselves, sighing and shaking their heads when the two girls dispersed. “Could they both be anymore obvious?”   
Li sighed, nodding in agreement with her twin sister, “The better question is; could they be anymore oblivious to their own emotions?”  
Lo snickered, smiling at her sister, “The little Princess is in love.”   
“Want to place bets on who’ll confess to who?”  
“You’re on, Li.”   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you ready, Prince Zuko?” Iroh’s voice was gentle as he knocked on his nephew’s quarters, entering the chambers as the raven-haired exile sat at his desk, visibly agitated. “I...I don’t know about this, Uncle,” He sighed, glaring at the piece of papyrus in front of him.   
Iroh could see Zuko’s previous failed attempts scrambled up in paper balls on the floor, scattered all over the cabin.   
He smiled sadly to himself, walking into Zuko’s room. “Nephew…” He took in a harmonic breath, “I’m sure whatever you have written is more than sufficient for her.”   
Zuko groaned, “You don’t get it!” He hissed, “It’s not...it’s not that simple!”   
Iroh internally reminded himself to remain peaceful. His nephew was going through a lot, and needed time to make his own inner realisations and come to himself in due time.   
“What if...what if I write the wrong thing?”   
Iroh knew that under all that teenage angst laid a heart made of pure gold. Zuko was his mother’s son.   
“Prince Zuko,” Iroh began, “I have been secretly writing letters with (Y/N) for a good part of our banishment,” He explained further, feeling somewhat guilty for not having informed his nephew of this sooner, but also knew that it had been for the best. It was not the right time to tell him until recently.   
Seeing Zuko was about to make a defensive remark, Iroh cut in before he could vocalise any complaint about his decision to keep this a secret from him, “-And in almost every single letter addressed to me she wanted to know about your wellbeing.”  
The tempest in Zuko’s eyes seemed to stagger.  
“Li (Y/N) cares for you, Prince Zuko. She was far too afraid to contact you outwardly and boldly until now - with enough persuasion - but she would not be doing so if she did not want to rekindle your old friendship.”  
Friendship. That word hit Zuko bitterly when he heard it from his uncle’s lips. Friendship would be impossible between them - he didn’t *want* to be (Y/N)’s friend. He wanted to be her lover again like he was supposed to be. He could never be her friend because he was in love with her, and the reason he feared sending this letter to her was simple; what if he put his heart and soul into it, only to find she had moved on?   
Her own letter had been a vague notion of “I miss you” and “I pray you’re doing well.”, (Y/N)’s writing painfully formal that it wounded his pride.   
But it was even more of an initiative to succeed in his quest to capture the avatar and bring glory back to himself - he would be a *hero*, and (Y/N) would never reject a war hero - who would reject someone who was the capturer of the avatar himself? 

Zuko loathed the mere idea that her feelings for him had faded over time. They were meant to be together, even Ursa thought so in the past, and it was an unbearable thought.   
What was even more unbearable was the fact he couldn’t just write *Hey, I know we haven’t spoken in three years and I don’t know how you are and you don’t know how I am but I’m still in love with you and when I come back I want us to still be together*.   
Such a letter would likely scare her away immediately. 

But he also knew he had to write something because he finally had a chance to at the very least regain her in his life if only partially.   
“Would you like assistance with the letter, Prince Zuko?”  
“No!” Zuko released a heavy exhale, “I mean...I need to do this myself, Uncle.”  
Iroh frowned but nodded, “As you wish, Prince Zuko.”  
And with that, the older ex-general turned and left to go up to the deck. 

“(Y/N)....” Her name tasted like sweet poison on his tongue, his heart felt heavy and he felt burdened with the fact he had finally spoken her name aloud.   
Three years of trying to forget her, grieving his separation from her and the haunting dreams he would have of her beautiful self finally caught up with him.   
He needed her like the sky needed both the moon and sun.   
And now, even if only in the smallest of ways, he could have her back. The entire concept was unreal - after far too long she was finally writing to him, despite the undoubted risk of being caught.  
She was risking her life to rekindle her relationship with him. How could he not adore her?  
How could he not crave her at every moment of the day? How could he not dream of her each night when she was the only woman Zuko believed he would ever be in love with? 

So, the Prince swallowed his pride and wrote a basic greeting, trying to make the letter sound formal enough to be respectful and he hesitantly inquired about her life and specifics, purposefully avoiding the question of whether she had found another other than him, or whether she remained faithful to him, alone.   
Though he could pray she did, he also wouldn’t blame her if she had found someone else. It’s been three tedious years and he was not enough of a fool to believe she would remain chaste and single for an exiled ex-fiance who had but one means of returning that until recently seemed to everyone but himself to be impossible. 

But that didn’t stop the piercing ache in his heart at the prospect that soon combined with a determination to regain her affections with time.   
He needed her, more than she would ever understand.   
And once he captured the Avatar he would return with glory undeniable and she would surely come back to him.   
And he would come back to her.  
And everything would be perfect. Everything *will* be perfect. 

And thus, he allowed Iroh to send his letter back to (Y/N).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“(Y/N).”   
Gasping, you sucked a deep breath in, turning around to see your father standing behind you. With respect, you bowed down, “Father.” You greeted in response with a monotone voice, far too afraid to reveal a single peep of emotion.   
The tension was killing you. You knew what he was about to talk about, and you wished he wouldn’t.  
“I…” he cleared his throat and spoke to you in a professional voice suited for a general such as himself. “I have reviewed your latest training with the other generals and admirals along with the opinions of Princess Azula,”  
You nodded your head, nervously - you knew you had fucked up entirely. *You should have killed them all* a twisted voice in your head mocked you, *Now they’re going to hurt mother.*  
Ignoring the many *what ifs* that plagued your mind and the graphic images of your mother being harmed for your foolish failures you stared up at the man who gave you life, restlessly anticipating his words.   
“You will be allowed to see your mother.”  
His words put you at ease. Your mother would not be punished for your inability to follow your father’s desires and the Firelord’s expectations.   
You knew that technically your orders were not to kill but to harm; to practice bloodbending - and yet that did not stop the unspoken expectation of everyone around you sans your mother for you to snap away one life at a time.  
But you hated yourself for every life you ever took. The biggest mistake of your life had been that even as a child you were a vile murderer as that night proved.   
...But war was war.  
“...Thank you, Father.”   
He gave a nod in response, “You...did well,” It was obvious in his voice that he’d been severely reprimanded for his actions during your training. Degrading a valuable military asset, after all, was surprisingly frowned upon.   
They realised when you were still young that positive reinforcement worked better on you.  
You forced a grateful smile, “Thank you.”   
More often than not you found yourself craving a good relationship with your father, but you knew that he only saw you as a way of advancing his own rank and privilege in the eyes of Firelord Ozai. You wished that, at least once, you could truly make your father proud on your own accord. 

Maybe your father would’ve been proud if you did what you were made to do instead of being so weak and emotionally fragile.  
The words he yelled at the training arena still echoed in your thoughts - he did not think you worthy to be his daughter or to wield the power you had.   
And how could you disagree?   
He was right.   
“When may I see her?”  
“She will arrive to see you in three days’ time.” Of course, you were never authorised to leave and visit her. Why would you think this time would’ve been any different?  
“Understood, Father.” You spoke curtly, gracefully - you knew getting emotional right now would only make you weaker in his eyes and that was something you could not afford.  
With that, your father turned and left, his footsteps making you cringe as you watched him, sighing, and then turning to go the opposite direction. 

“What did he want?”   
“Azula!” you exclaimed, breathing shallowly, “You’ve got to stop doing that.”   
She smirked, leaning against the pillar in the hall, “Not my fault you’re so easy to sneak up on. Good thing we keep you in here or you would be ambushed with such ease…”  
Unamused, you pouted and put your hands together in anxiety. “I am to see Mother in three days time.”   
This intel seemed to gain Azula’s interest, “Oh...I see.” She hummed, walking around you like a cat around its prey, “How do you feel about that?” She asked, then added, “Not that I, like, *care* about your feelings, but I’m curious.”   
“I...feel…” You paused. How did you feel about this? Did you feel happy? Hardly.   
Maybe you should feel happy - she was your mother, who you hadn’t seen in forever, and yet it only caused further distress.  
Your meetings with your mother were hardly ever enjoyable - you wanted them to be so bad and you always did your best to please her, but she was far from willing to spend valuable time with you.   
“I feel...excited. Yes, I am very excited about seeing her again-”  
“-I’m not your stupid father. You can’t lie to me when I know you’re dreading it.”   
Ah. Of course, she would’ve been able to call your bluff immediately.   
Azula narrowed her eyes at you, making you suddenly self-conscious. “Come on,” She held out her hand, refusing to look you in the eyes as the smallest blush dusted over her cheeks. 

Shyly, you placed your hand in hers, trusting her. “Where are we going?”   
“You’ll see.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Uncle...I want the repairs made as quickly as possible.” Zuko declared as they stepped outside after their ships boarded the docks, “I don’t want to stay too long and risk losing his trail.” Agitation consumed him as he relived the events of the previous days when the Avatar had so easily outwitted and beaten him. How could he have been so foolish? How could he have underestimated the Avatar?  
“You mean the Avatar?”  
With panicked eyes, Zuko turned to glare at his uncle. “Don’t mention his name on these docks,” He scolded the older man, quiet alarm in his voice, “Once word gets out that he’s alive,” Zuko shook his head, not breaking eye contact with Iroh, “Every firebender will be out looking for him, and i don’t want anyone getting in the way.” 

“Getting in the way of what, Prince Zuko?” The deep-throated voice of Zhao cut through the air, and Zuko felt his courage abandon him, if only for a second, before trying to force bravery into himself against the sadistic older man.   
“Captain Zhao…” Zuko ‘greeted’, arms crossed as he glared at the taller male with fierce disdain.   
“It’s commander now.” Zhao’s smug response made Zuko want to punch that smirk off his filthy face, but he was already an exile as is, and punching when of his father’s men was hardly beneficial for his future. Not to mention that he didn’t want the distraction - his ship needed repairs and then he needed to sail away to chase after the Avatar and actually succeed in his capture, this time around.   
And then everything would be perfect.   
He took in a deep breath through his nostrils, trying to think happy thoughts but all that came to mind - all that motivated him - was (Y/N).   
“General Iroh,” Zhao acknowledged with egotistically narrowed eyes, hands behind his back with faux elegance, he bowed down in forced respect, “A great hero of our nation,” like it or not, Iroh had served the Fire Nation brilliantly in his prime, even if now he was nothing more than a pathetic pile of fat slime in Zhao’s eyes.   
“Retired general,” Iroh solemnly reminded, hating the memories of his past deeds which he knew would haunt him eternally.   
“The Firelord’s son and brother are welcome guests at my harbour anytime,” Zhao spoke diplomatically, trying to uncover all their secrets with his cunning. “What brings you to my harbour?”   
“Our ship is being repaired,” Iroh gestured to the entirely wrecked ship behind them. “That’s...quite the bit of damage.” Zhao observed, raising an eyebrow and expecting a response.   
“Yes-” Zuko’s voice was higher pitched than he would have liked it to be, but he was on the verge of panicking. “You wouldn’t believe what happened,” He cursed the words that fell out of his own lips.   
Attempting to make himself fiercer he raised his voice just an octave, “Uncle, tell commander Zhao what happened.”  
Iroh felt his heart drop in his chest. His nephew really had just thrown him under the bus like that, huh? Still, it wasn’t as if Iroh hadn’t had to think fast on his feet before. “Yes, well…” Iroh raised his arms up, “It was incredible!” Pausing, he turned to Zuko, blinking, “What, did we crash or something?”

If he could, Zuko would groan and chastise his uncle for this, “Yes! Right into an Earth kingdom ship.” He lied with urgency, praying Zhao wouldn’t press them.   
“Really? You must regale me with all the thrilling details.” From Zhao’s tone alone Zuko wasn’t able to tell whether he fell for their lie and found it boring or whether he realised it was a lie and wanted to dig the truth out of them and not knowing was killing him slowly with anxiety. 

“Join me for a drink?”

He hated Zhao with a passion - he hated how weak and pathetic the older man made him feel. Zuko despised feeling inferior, and unfortunately for him he’d felt this way far too many times in his life, and enough was enough - things were going to be different once he regained his glory.  
He was going to be worthy of his future throne, worthy of his father’s affections and worthy of his honour - and worthy of calling himself (Y/N)’s husband-to-be. 

And then he was going to show Zhao who was superior. 

“Sorry, but we have to go,” He spoke with prideful diplomacy, refusing to offer because he feared that Commander Zhao would attempt to gain self-advancing information out of them. He felt proud of himself for standing up to the man and refusing his offer, but then his uncle had to cut in.   
“Prince Zuko,” Iroh held his shoulder, “Show Commander Zhao your respect.”   
Zuko tensed, glaring at the ground as he watched Iroh walk off with Zhao, talking about stupid Ginseng tea. How dare that fool of an uncle challenge his choices and determination? Groaning under his breath, he reluctantly followed.

Inside Zhao’s camp, Iroh and Zuko sat as the Commander presented to them the current world domination plan with hubristic pride. “And by year’s end, the Earth Kingdom Capital will be under our control.”   
Zuko couldn’t believe the words he had been hearing.   
“The Firelord will finally claim his victory in this war.”   
“If my Father thinks the rest of the world will follow him willingly, then he is a fool.”   
Zhao had to hold back a laugh at the Prince’s angsty antics. “Two years at sea have done little to temper your tongue.” He spoke to Zuko as if to a child. 

“So, how’s your search for the Avatar going?”  
At those words, Iroh, in a sudden surge of fright, dropped all the tea he’d been holding, the china and metal shattering and clanking on the ground. “Uh...my fault, entirely.”   
“We haven’t found him yet,” Zuko lied with as smooth a tone as he could, trying to be convincing and mature in his temperance.   
Zhao locked eyes with the exiled prince, almost with pity, “did you really expect to? The Avatar died a hundred years ago, along with the rest of the airbenders.”   
He couldn’t wait until he would wipe that smugness off Zhao’s face when he’d bring the avatar to the Capital and prove himself a hero.   
Unfortunately for Zuko the look on his face had given Zhao a small idea, “Unless...you’ve found some evidence that the Avatar is alive…?”  
“No. Nothing.”   
Immediately, Zhao knew that stupid little banished traitor was lying. “Prince Zuko. If you have an ounce of loyalty left, you’ll tell me what you found.” He spoke to the boy as he would to a child. If the Avatar was alive, then Zhao had to be the one to get to him first. He could advance to be one of the most important men in the Fire nation if he accomplished that.   
“I haven’t found *anything*,” Zuko retorted, his voice fervent and challenging Zhao with words unspoken, “It’s like you said,” He added bitterly, “The Avatar probably died a long time ago.”  
He stood, refusing to be around Zhao any more than he had to be, “Come on, Uncle. We’re going-”  
Zhao’s men refused to allow him to exit, halting him by crossing their spears before him and informing Zhao of the interrogation they did with Zuko’s crew.   
He cursed his crew for their honesty, couldn’t they lie for once in their lives when it was useful? 

“Now, remind me,” Zhao turned to face Zuko, “how exactly did your ship get damaged?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was so beautiful up here on the balcony. You swore that you could see all of the capital from up here - scenic beauty never failed to put you at ease so it was really no wonder Azula took you here. She never said it, and you doubted she ever would; but Azula cared about you and no matter how vehemently she may deny it, you knew that she did from her actions. 

The soft wind blew through your styled (H/C) hair and you breathed in serenely.   
“Here,” Azula huffed, handing you a glass of water as she leaned forward against the stone barrier.   
“I love the view up here,” You whispered, gratitude coating your voice.   
“I know,” she responded nonchalantly, “I suppose it’s not a bad view by any means. Ember Island is way prettier than the capital though.”  
You smiled, “Oh, for certain. With those pretty waterfalls and the oceanic view? Ember Island wins hands down.” 

Moments such as these kept you going and reminded you why you were so devoted to Azula in the first place. You needed her.   
You didn’t know anyone else; apart from maybe Zuko; who would do something like this just because you felt down. It was a seemingly small gesture but to you it meant everything. Bringing you up here and spending time with you...it felt so intimate and loving.   
Something Azula didn’t even realise she could be, but that was exactly what she was to you.  
Even if sometimes she could be the opposite.

You loved her so much…as your most beloved friend and companion, of course. It...it wasn’t possible that what you felt for Azula could be anything other than a feeling of the deepest friendship. The idea was ridiculous and you chased it out of your thoughts.   
Azula was loved by you. So very, deeply loved. But...but your heart - that would always belong to Zuko, wouldn’t it? Yes, of course it would - he would have been your future husband if he hadn’t been exiled and you could never bring yourself to entertain the idea of falling for anyone else. Zuko was...he was special. Granted, he’d been kinder when Ursa had been here and started to become more twisted as time went on, but you never did blame him for it. He’d lost his mother. 

Turning to observe Azula’s gorgeous side-view you blushed and turned to stare forward at the view, but then you frowned as your thoughts sunk back in. Zuko lost a mother, but Azula did, too.   
Though at least Zuko *had* a mother - your own mother thought you were…  
You paused, biting down on your lip. You downed the water in your glass and then placed it further from you on a convenient side table that stood beside the balcony doors, then turned back to Azula.   
Taking in a deep breath, you reminded yourself that Zuko *wasn’t* here, not anymore. He hadn’t been for three long years and though he was always going to live in your heart, there was little chance you’d ever be able to see him again face-to-face with the letters being dangerous enough as was. Not to mention he likely wouldn’t even write you back.  
Zuko wasn’t here.   
But Azula was.   
And even if you both never really spoke about it, there was a mutual understanding that no one else would ever possess. An understanding of what it felt like to be unloved by the very woman who gave you life. Ursa was a good woman and, to Zuko, she was a perfect mother.   
But you always had to remind yourself that when it came to only daughters, Ursa and Tapeesa shared much in common with how they saw their respective girls. 

You understood her. And she understood you. And that was how it had always been.  
The evening skies and the sparkling stars in the atmosphere made you smile to herself wholeheartedly. Without Zuko here, Azula truly was your everything. You owed everything to her. Blushing deeply, you stared down at the city below, enjoying the moment in comfortable, albeit awkward silence as you and Azula stood on the balcony side-by-side.   
In the stillness, your wandering hand subconsciously found her own idle right hand, loosely hoovering by each other until you made the daring choice to intertwine your hand with hers, heart beating so intently that you swore you heard it vibrate in your ears. 

You felt her tense but soon, she relaxed, and though she would deny it if you pointed it out, she even squeezed your hand back. Neither of you looked at the other, but both of you were cherry-red.

And at this moment, you wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else but here, with her and her alone. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So a twelve-year-old boy bested you and your firebenders.” Zhao paced around the tent, “You're more pathetic than I thought.”   
The words hit Zuko hard, and it felt like knives to his chest. He wasn’t pathetic! He wasn’t...he wasn’t pathetic anymore!   
“I underestimated him once, but it will not happen again!”  
“ No, it will not. Because you won't have a second chance.”   
Zuko barred his teeth, hating this situation. It was the worst-case scenario, for sure. “Commander Zhao,” Zuko spoke up with blatant dread, “I've been hunting the Avatar for two years and I -”

“And you failed!” Zhao responded aggressive, spreading flames in an arc to intimidate the prince he kept captive, glaring at him with a deadly intensity.   
“Capturing the Avatar is too important to leave in a teenager's hands. He's mine now.”   
No…! No, Zuko wasn’t about to let this happen! This was his one and only chance at regaining everything he’d lost - everything he spent years working so hard to regain.   
If he allowed Zhao to take the Avatar from him, he would never have his glory back, his honour would be lost to time! 

And he would never get his father’s approval or his crown or, most importantly, (Y/N)...! 

Instinctively and enraged, Zuko jumped up at Zhao, only to be held back by the Commander’s men.   
“...Keep them here,” Zhao turns to leave, ignoring Zuko’s angsty tantrum as he kicks the table over, shattering everything in his reach. “Get back here! Come back and fight me like a man, you bastard!”

Iroh simply sighed in pity as he looked up at his poor nephew, “More tea, please,” Though it was also kind of amusing, really. In a tragic way, but amusing nonetheless. His nephew’s tantrums always were.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“My search party is ready.” Zhao’s voice snapped Zuko out of his deep thoughts on how to get out of this situation and how to challenge the bastard when he had the chance. He was not about to allow his only chance at redemption to be stolen from him by some middle-aged commander. This was his last chance to have what he needed in his life.   
He wouldn’t allow Zhao to steal what he deserved to regain.  
“Once I'm out to sea, my guards will escort you back to your ship and you'll be free to go.”   
Zuko glanced down at the ground in rage, refusing to meet the man’s eyes.   
“Why? Are you worried I'm going to try and stop you?”  
The hubristic laugh that erupted from Zhao boiled Zuko’s blood drastically. “You? Stop me? Impossible.”   
“Don't underestimate me, Zhao! I will capture the Avatar before you!” Zuko screeched out in wrath, eyes burning with contempt and determination. This meant war.  
“Prince Zuko, that’s enough.” Iroh sternly stated, standing up himself. Iroh could tell the best course of action was to just take Zuko and leave whilst they still could. Perhaps he would finally be able to persuade Zuko to stop the search and move into the Earth Kingdom instead; somewhere better. 

“You can't compete with me. I have hundreds of warships under my command and you? You're just a banished prince. No home, no allies. Your own father doesn't even want you.”

At that comment, even Iroh had the internal desire to blast the fool with his flames. Zhao was going too far; pushing too many buttons. The worst part was Iroh knew he was being honest out of malice and he loathed that.   
He loathed mostly though, the knowledge he’d once been like Zhao. A malicious man of evil intent.

“You're wrong! Once I deliver the Avatar to my father, he will welcome me home with honor, and restore my rightful place on the throne!”  
Before Iroh could stop or intervene, however, his nephew had gotten himself tied up in yet another Agni Kai. The words caused dread to spread inside of Iroh, as he sucked a breath in. He’s already lost his son - he could not bear to lose his nephew.   
“Prince Zuko, have you forgotten what happened last time you duelled a master?”   
“I never forgot.”  
How could he? He had a scar to prove it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Iroh watched with fearful anticipation as sunset arrived and his nephew and Commander Zhao started their Agni Kai.  
He could only pray that he taught Zuko enough firebending to at the very least minimise the damage that Zhao might do to him. The things his unwise nephew got into…

Iroh observed, seconds away from biting his nails in anxiety as the two prepared their stances. Much to Iroh’s pride, Zuko was using his firebending basics, blasting Zhao with powerful and intense flames, even if the latter was dodging them with some trouble.   
Zhao narrowed his eyes darkly as he crossed his arms in front of him and took Zuko’s next blasts head-on. Moving one arm up and the other down, dissipating the flames, smirking at the Prince. Enraged, Zuko grated his teeth and performed a roundhouse kick, spraying flames towards his rival. Masterfully, Zhao utilised his own flames to protect himself from Zuko’s attack. 

Iroh held his fists up, rooting for Zuko, “Basics, Zuko! Break his root!” He hoped his reminder would serve Zuko well.   
And, much to their fortune, it did; determination re-filled Zuko, but much to his and Iroh’s horror Zhao began to have the advantage, demonic flames licking at Zuko’s flesh too closely for comfort; a warning of what may be.   
Iroh could not bear to watch, shutting his eyes tightly when Zhao thrust himself above Zuko to deliver the final blow, only to then open them and witness his nephew swirling around, kicking Zhao off-balance and flipping the table of advantage.  
The older man laid on the ground, tired and gasping for air as Zuko stood above him, arm up and ready to deliver the lethal blow to Zhao’s skull, “Do it!”  
Grunting, Zuko blasted the space beside Zhao’s head - mentally cursing himself for his inability to take a life.   
He just...he couldn’t do it.   
“Your father raised a coward!”  
“Next time you get in my way, I promise, I won't hold back.” Zuko meant those dark, murderous words, though. He couldn’t bring himself to do it now, but...if Zhao ever tried to get in his way again, he would show no restraint at all. His mother’s words and (Y/N) explanations of how awful taking lives was lived inside him, but if push came to shove...he knew he would have no choice.   
Zuko learnt that in order to get what he wanted he needed to be more ruthless.   
Turning his back to Zhao, Zuko began to walk away. He didn’t have time to waste - he’d already been slowed down far too much by Zhao’s stupid antics for this. He..he had a task to accomplish and honour to retrieve.   
Zhao, humiliated and infuriated, lifted himself off the ground, his back facing Zuko. With violent intentions, he turned around and aimed a potent kick of scorching flames at Zuko but before Zuko was able to react, Iroh fearlessly cut in-between, seizing Zhao's foot, dissipating the fire. With a soft groan, the ex-general shoved Zhao back, causing him to slide away on his back. Zuko, realising what had occurred felt the embers of his fury reignite and he turned, flames rising around him, ready to attack and fulfil his prior promise when his uncle intervened. “No, Prince Zuko. Do not taint your victory.”   
His uncle’s words sank deep into Zuko’s soul, and he lowered his arms, taking in a deep breath to steady himself. His uncle was right. By...taking the higher road, he knew he had something to be proud of, regardless. Because he knew that even if others saw him as a coward, (Y/N) would view it as courageous. And So would have Ursa.

“So this is how the great Commander Zhao acts in defeat?” Iroh scoffed, his tone deep and condescending as he peered down at Zhao as though he were a stupid pest. “Disgraceful.”   
“Even in exile, my nephew is more honourable than you.” Zuko’s eyes enlarged and he turned to his uncle in tender shock, his uncle’s words comforting him further.   
“Thanks again for the tea. It was delicious”.  
With those parting words, Iroh and Zuko walked away. 

“Did you really mean that, Uncle?” Zuko inquired once they were far enough away, his voice soft and he felt truly warm for the first time in forever.   
Iroh chuckled, smiling with fatherly affection up at Zuko, “Of course. I told you ginseng tea is my favourite.”  
Zuko smiled a Mona Lisa smile, walking side-by-side with his uncle towards their ship.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three days came and went by far too quickly for your liking and between usual body training and gymnastics, as well as your tutoring sessions with instructors and teachers you found little time for yourself. Still, in those little stolen self-centred moments, your mind thought of Zuko and whether you did the right thing.   
Maybe you writing to him had been a huge mistake - maybe you should have never done it…  
With every dawn, you found yourself consumed by more regret and guilt in your life over every single action you ever committed.   
Taking in a deep breath, you had to prepare yourself for your meeting with your mother. You wondered how she had been faring - she was on your mind often.   
You loved your mother so much it hurt.   
You loved her more than life itself.   
You loved her in the way she never loved you - perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. Maybe she just...didn’t know how to showcase the love her held for her only child, but ever since the incident she hardly even wrote to you anymore unless she had to, or unless it was an event such as your birthday. Your mother had always felt distant from you, and you could only assume that to be because you had ruined her life by being born.   
Your very existence encased her in her gilded cage so she could not leave. You were the reason why she was trapped now, more than ever, and you could well be the reason why she could be imprisoned or killed at any moment. It was only threatened to you loosely when you were younger as a way of motivating you, but since that time you dared not question the idea that if you ever disgraced your nation, your mother would be the one to pay the price.   
And you wanted your mother’s happiness. That was all you ever wanted; so was it so selfish of you to desire some maternal affection in return?   
It seemed like it was too much to ask - you were being awfully self-centred with such a mindset - your mother had a tremendously difficult life full of mourning.

She’d tell you stories of the Southern Water Tribe as a child, and you understood, even then, that she’d been snatched away from those she loved and forced into this cruel union with your father.   
You were not a fruit made of love or passion. You were a rotten fruit created of sin and defilement. Since the tender age of five or six, you’d realised that your birth had been the greatest tragedy of your mother’s life. Try as you may to resent her, you never could bring yourself to do so. She had every right to look upon you, the filthy murderer, with disgust and horror. 

But that did not stop the wishful thinking that she would see you as her child and not a monstrosity for the first time in your life, nor did it stop your longing for the embrace of a loving mother that you knew you would never receive, you were not born to be loved. The thought struck you like the sharpest shard of ice. 

You were not born to be loved. 

Hurriedly, you applied your blossom blush onto your cheeks, wanting to at the very least look presentable. The best vermillion dress you owned was already on your body, framing your physique modestly. (E/C) eyes gazed into the mirror, seeing yourself staring back. Twirling around to ensure you look satisfactory you gave yourself a small nod.   
A gentle knock sounded from your chamber doors. “Lady (Y/N), your mother is awaiting your presence in her guest chambers.” 

This was it.  
Inhaling sharply with a painted smile on your lips, you walked out of your room, through the hallways and towards the room she always stayed in, hesitating as your knuckles hoovered above the door, telling yourself to stop being such a coward, you knocked. 

“Come in.”   
Your mother’s voice was devoid of emotion or maternal warmth - you could tell from those two muffled words alone. But it was still a sound you missed, regardless.   
Placing both hands on the decorated doors, you exhaled, and pushed them open, walking in with as much elegance as possible as to not make a fool of yourself in front of your precious mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please give a kudos and comment if you enjoyed it! <3


	5. Chapter Four: Motherhood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter: Implied/referenced past forced pregnancy, child neglect, gory imagery, murderous thoughts

“Mother…”  
The trembling voice of her daughter caused every muscle in Tapeesa’s body to tense with dread. The words felt wrong coming from the lips of her own child. *Mother*.  
Biologically, she supposed she was just that; (Y/N)’s mother, the one who gave her life and brought her into this wretched world.  
If she’d been a brighter woman who used her brains and not her heart, she would have slain the babe in her cot. It would have been a kindness to have committed the immoral act of infanticide than to have allowed her baby to live and grow up in such an uncaring world.  
With every dawn and dusk, she found herself regretting her failure to free herself and (Y/N) from the unfair shackles of life when she’d had the chance. It was what Tapeesa knew should’ve been done, and yet she did not have the heart nor soul to destroy the only happiness she had in this foreign hell. 

(Y/N) had meant everything to Tapeesa. It took time, she admitted, to form a real bond with the child forced upon her - the initial several months were appalling for the new mother, she could remember them as if through a window. The revulsion stewing in her gut whenever she set her sights upon the girl that had been growing within her womb, had been so immense she felt sick.  
For many months, she let the maids and servants care for her child, refusing to be in the same room, avoiding her motherly duties.  
She had been a young woman then; barely even a woman at all - forced to breed for that filthy, coward of a man.  
The memories themselves had faded away at the edges after a lifetime of being trapped in the cage of her marriage, but she could recall the emotions felt.  
Tapeesa couldn’t identify the exact moment when her mindset changed, but it did; as though a switch was flipped, and then suddenly, her baby was hers. Reclaimed in her mind as her salvation, not her doom - if only for the short few years before the incident.  
It wasn’t that she didn’t love (Y/N), because she did. She was her mother - Of course, she loved her.  
But love was not enough. 

“...Mother?” You spoke up again, noticing your mother was in a strange, distant state. Though you supposed that was normal for her - she was rarely mentally present when around you. Finally, she seemed to acknowledge your presence. “(Y/N).” Her tone was so cold that you could swear she made your veins freeze with her unemotional tone alone.  
If only Azula could be here right now; you needed her for moral support, but you deemed that this was one of those individual challenges that you needed to handle by yourself. You couldn’t keep bothering Azula with petty issues - she was the princess. She was your superior and what would she think of you if you couldn’t even face your own mother by yourself now that you were almost grown? 

Careful and slow footsteps clicked on the stone floor as you took baby steps towards her.  
She had her back to you.  
Your hands clenched the thick material of your dress, taking in a heavy breath to ground and prevent yourself from instantly turning around and racing out the room.  
This was your *reward* - something you were meant to appreciate.  
A reward for being an honourable Fire Nation citizen, soon-to-be weapon. 

For a moment, neither you nor your mother knew what to do. It’d been almost a full year since your last meeting, and with every day apart the emotional distance increased tenfold. You couldn’t recall having a single proper conversation with her in years. 

Sighing delicately, Tapeesa stared ahead out of the window. She stood up from her seat on the edge of the guest bed, her back still to you. With slow movements, she finally sat herself down on one of the two armchairs in the corner, with the unspoken implication for you to follow after and sit beside her. So you did.  
“...How have you been, Mother?” You asked in one quick breath, your chest heaving with pain as you sat in your chair, uncomfortable. “Has everything been good?”

*Has Father hurt you, at all*? 

It took Tapeesa a moment to think about her responses. Being near to her daughter made her immensely uncomfortable, and she refused to look at you even once, instead choosing to stare down at her lap where her hands laid.  
“I have been well, yes,” She answered with a monotone voice.  
“T-That’s good…”  
Tapeesa merely gave a gentle hum. “Indeed.”  
Another pregnant pause filled the room, and neither the girl nor the woman dared to gaze at each other. The discomfort for both was overwhelming.  
Still...this was your mother. And you loved her, and you’d be damned if you didn’t try to make an effort to, at the very least, repair what you could. You hadn’t seen her in so long, and you missed her. You missed talking to her.  
“...”  
“...”  
The silence was killing you, though. What shared topic could you possibly discuss? What could you talk about? Was there even any common ground you shared with her?  
“Princess Azula’s firebending is improving,” You abruptly declared, wincing internally at how apprehensive you sounded when you spoke. “She’ll be one of the youngest firebending masters of all time, I do not doubt that.”  
Tapeesa cringed when you started speaking about the Fire Nation’s princess, just as rotten as her father. Sudden desperation snapped within of her, and she felt bile rise to her throat. She allowed her child to be raised by these monsters.  
So, really, what had she been expecting? That her child wouldn’t, in turn, be raised to *be* a monster?  
Maybe she’d spent these years hoping that the Water Tribe blood flowing through her veins would somehow salvage her from turning to a horrid beast, but Tapeesa had known all along that was wishful thinking. 

Now her daughter worshipped the ground which these horrific bastards walked upon. She had not spoken to, nor seen, her only child for a good part of a year - and for Tapeesa this time had gone by far too quickly and yet so slow it made her die to lay her eyes on (Y/N) once again.  
Tapeesa wished she could just see her daughter normally - like any other mother viewed their child, but with you...she couldn’t. She just couldn’t stand knowing that your future was already set in stone; you were going to be the Fire Nation’s pawn forever and it was her fault for giving birth to you. Because of her mistake, you would suffer - and you would never even realise how pitiful your story truly was.  
But she doubted it would ever be as pitiful as hers. 

She wondered, then, whether anyone would even acknowledge her story or if she would be written down as the willing wife from a barbarian culture married to a brave and striking general. The thought itself made her nauseous.  
She’d spent most of her life as a captive. There was not a drop of romance in that, and the idea that her life would be romanticised after her death sickened her to no end.  
“That’s wonderful for the Princess. Send her my regards.”  
“Of course I will.”  
“...”  
There was also the unspoken reason as to why this visit had even been permitted.  
You did something horrible, that through wrapped Fire Nation eyes was seen as noble. Tapeesa knew it, You knew that she knew it - it was shared knowledge neither of you wanted to acknowledge.  
Out of everyone close to you, your mother was the only one against your powers, the only one petrified by their presence. She believed you to be a waterbender like your grandmother had been; it once even made her proud to think that bastard of a general wouldn’t be getting a firebender out of her; until that awful night where you reaped lives for the first time. 

You memorised certain aspects of that life-changing event; the aftermath, mostly - but it was a handful of flashing moments and images forever imprisoned within the cell of your brain and not a full, proper memory of that night. You’d been too young to fully recall each detail.  
But your mother’s breakdown; her refusal to dance with your father, her anguished cries; the way she screeched to be released, both from the constrained hold of your father’s men who held her to stop her from struggling and begging to be released from her captivity in a loveless marriage in the land she detested; her tears; the surge of desperation within you, enhanced by the full moon - Your need to protect her - The dreaded power flowing through your veins like a conduit; the sickening crunch of breaking bones and spilt blood - the screams - your bloodied hands and dress; and, most importantly; the horror on your mother’s face.  
All of those things were perpetually clasped into your mind, and try as you may they continued to haunt you. You feared you would never be free of those memories. 

For Tapeesa, that night was impossible to forget. It was the night that she realised her child was cursed with a sinister ability. It was the night she first regretted not smothering you as a baby, or even going to the extreme and stabbing your little heart out so that your fate would never have been fulfilled.  
Your fate, she knew, was to destroy. Everything Tapeesa ever cared for would be surely ruined by the hands of her own child; she gave birth to a creature of destruction. Her grandmother always told her to be wary of bad omens from the Spirits and Deities of the universe.  
What worse omen could there be but for the moon to be crimson red on the eve of her baby’s birth?  
When it had occurred she should have listened to the spirits; the warning had been clear.  
Her child was an *abomination*.  
Proof that firebenders and waterbenders should never be one; it was clear that her blighted daughter was a punishment from the spirits, displeased with her forced union and with the fact she had raised this child.  
The blood took forever to wash from her hair after that ball, and she still relived the terror she felt after witnessing (Y/N)’s bloodbending. She’d been certain that you’d be put to death or imprisoned; after all, you were a bloodied monster!  
She wept for your future that night, wept for the fact she birthed a murderous monster, wept for her tragic tale, wept for the family members she knew she’d never see again.  
And to this day she wept for all those things each night when her head touched her silken pillow.  
What woe it would have been to have her daughter executed; but what horror Tapeesa felt, instead, when it was decided that (Y/N) would be taken from her, but not in the way she had expected, and instead praised for her dark powers.  
Tapeesa wanted to be able to gaze upon you, her only child, with pride and joy; but whenever she tried she could only see your younger face, blood-stained and wide-eyed, arms raised and dress stained with stolen life.  
It took everything for her to not cry whenever you were near. 

But Tapeesa did not hate you; she could never hate you because you were her baby. She carried you within her, she’d given you life - how could she ever bring herself to hate you? Resent you, yes. But truly despise you as she did your father - never, nothing you could do would take her love away.  
But it was because she loved you she knew minimal contact was for the best.  
Tapeesa could not trust herself around you. The longer she spent in your presence, the more intense her thoughts became; the less sane she felt.  
Last time she was made to visit you, she had to stop herself from stabbing you over and over with her hair ornament, the gory image playing in her head on repeat, tempting her. A normal mother would feel disgusted at the idea of killing her child, but not Tapeesa. Because she knew it was what should be done, even if she also could never do it herself.  
She was too weak to go through with anything.  
But your existence was just as bad for her as it was for you. In death, you could be free. 

Oh! What was she even thinking?  
Out of habit, Tapeesa started to scratch the flesh from around her fingers, nerves refusing to ease. She hated being confined in the same room as (Y/N), alone. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The shimmering stars on the starry sky felt as if they belonged on a canvas. It was a gorgeous night at sea, one all sailors dreamt of because it meant smooth sailing ahead. 

The Exiled Prince was in his cabin, sitting serenely as he breathed in and out, meditating just like his uncle had taught him to. Ever since the start of their banishment, Iroh had pestered Zuko to practice the “art of contemplation” and though Zuko had initially argued against doing something he considered to have been a waste of time, he soon tried it and found he enjoyed it significantly more than he presumed he would. Especially now that he had the Avatar to capture, he had to be at his spiritual best, and meditation would surely be the right way to go. 

The subtle warmth from the candles around him gave a sense of familiarity. This was one of those habits he planned on carrying into his future, it would certainly serve him well.

Much to his chagrin, though, he felt the unmistakable presence of his uncle entering the room. Uncle Iroh had a specific air around him that was easy to detect after living with him on this ship for three years.  
Opening his eyes, frustration licking at his psyche, Zuko took the time to calmly speak, striving to remain as serene as possible and denying the urge to allow his annoyance to influence him.  
“The only reason you should be interrupting me, is if you have news about the Avatar.”  
Zuko had much to consider; he needed a strategy and plan on how to handle things from this moment on. With Commander Zhao in the way of his goals and the fact Zhao was now his rival for glory, many aspects had to be contemplated. They would find the Avatar any moment now, track him, and attain him; but they needed to do this before Zhao.

Taking in a deep breath, Iroh entered the room fully, a scroll in his hands. "Well, there is news, Prince Zuko, but you might not like it. Don't get too upset.” Iroh was relieved to see his nephew taking his advice when it came to meditation, but this ‘news’ was far from happy and he had the feeling Zuko would react explosively.  
“Uncle, you taught me that keeping a level head is a sign of a great leader. Now, whatever you have to say, I'm sure I can take it.” Zuko meant his breathy words, fully intent on achieving spiritual harmony even under negative situations.  
Iroh wished he could believe Zuko’s statement, but as a man exceeding Zuko in age by endless years, he knew a few hours of meditation could not stop a temperamental typhoon.  
“Okay then,” Iroh paused, inhaling, “ We have no idea where he is.” 

“What!?”  
Much as the older man had expected, meditation did nothing to cease the enraged reaction of his nephew. Bitterness welled in his chest, disappointed but not surprised. The candles around them erupted into a burning mess, engulfing the room in a bright inferno, the heat of the flares causing Iroh to sweat.  
Annoyed, the ex-general fanned himself with his robe.  
Rising to his feet, Zuko stood tall, fiery fury alive inside his soul, “You really should open a window in here.” Ignoring his Uncle’s stupid attempt to be comedic, Zuko snatched the scroll from him, in his anger forgetting his gone-by determination to remain at peace. “Give me the map!”  
Instantly Zuko unrolled the papyrus, eyeing the map. 

“Well, there have been multiple sightings of the Avatar, but he is impossible to track down.” Iroh tried to speak logically but reminded himself Zuko and logic did not seem to co-exist most of the time.  
Rage shifted to desperation. “How am I going to find him, Uncle?” The question was tense, needy. Iroh wished he could have the power of instant knowledge if only to comfort his nephew and help him. “He is clearly a master of evasive manoeuvring.”

Panic rose in his breast, abruptly dizzy and needing to sit down. The candles all extinguished with his lament. Sitting on a seat, he put the map on a surface nearby, grabbing a fistful of his ponytail. His heart burned as he had to hold himself back from crying - he was going to be a mighty military man, not a pathetic coward. Still, in the moment the idea of finding the Avatar felt impossible, how would they find him before Zhao?  
What if Zhao found and captured him before and Zuko lost his one and only chance at regaining everything he lost due to his carelessness?  
Urgh! How could he have been so stupid, so foolish, as to speak up against military plans at a war meeting?  
He’d give anything to go back and fix that mistake. 

“Prince Zuko…” Iroh’s tone was empathetic. He sighed, uncertain of how to make the situation better. At that moment he could just envision in his mind’s eye the many times his own son had felt as if he was a failure and weak, and it broke his heart just the same to see Zuko like that, too.  
He crouched down with some difficulty, placing a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. “The Avatar may be evading us,” he decided, “but that doesn’t mean we should stop our search or give up.” He wished he could grant Zuko the certainty of success, but nothing could do that.  
For all Iroh knew, they were most likely going to fail. Until recently, the Avatar hadn’t even been considered real and now they were fighting a powerful child who had the ability to out-manoeuvre them at all times so far - with Zhao being another player in this game of cat and mouse their chances were even slimmer.  
But, despite the likeliness of failure, Iroh was not about to allow Zuko to wallow in self-pity and self-loathing. Even if Iroh wanted nothing more than to move on with their lives and settle somewhere far from the Fire Nation, he acknowledged his responsibility to be here to support and care for his nephew and that was what he was going to do. If Zuko was so determined to capture the Avatar and regain his honour, Iroh would be here to help him try.  
If they failed; so be it, perhaps then Iroh could finally convince Zuko to change his mindset, then.  
“In fact, I bet we will find him in the most unlikely of places! But right now, we’re running short on food and should go to the nearest island for resources.”  
Practicalities would give Zuko a short-term goal to distract him from the gloom of the situation, so Iroh hoped.  
Groaning, Zuko lifted his head, nodding sourly. “You’re right, Uncle.” He dejectedly agreed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally having enough of the silence between you and your mother, you dared speak the most taboo question of all;  
“Do you hate me?”  
The question caught both your mother and yourself off-guard - did you truly just say that? Ask that?  
Tapeesa blinked feverishly, your inquiry stealing the breath from her throat.  
“I…” She faltered, tense.  
“No. I do not hate you,” She finally responded, but you knew better now. In her hesitation, you found your answer.  
Your mother hated you. She must do. Truthfully, you always knew it, deep inside; ever since that night, your mother avoided you and anything to do with you as though you were some lethal plague.  
But you could never hate her.  
“...” Sighing, her (E/C) eyes locked with your same ones, “(Y/N)...” She began, the words tasting bitter in her mouth, “I…” She wanted to say ‘I love you’, but she couldn’t do it because whilst she loved you, it wasn’t enough.  
“You’re my child. Of course, I do not hate you.” Apart from the internalised fear of upsetting you and risking being on the receiving end of your rage, she almost felt indifference.  
She didn’t fool herself into believing she was a good mother - she wasn’t - but with how her life had played out, could anyone truly blame her? 

She’d been a prisoner-wife to a man she tried to kill on more than one occasion for a large portion of her life. Her body was no longer her own, either; from the moment she’d been chosen by Yang he used her and abused her as he saw fit, taking her whenever and however he wanted with no regard for her comfort or pleasure.  
Each night was a new type of hell for her, and when she found out she was pregnant she locked herself in her chambers mourning for three long days, refusing to eat or sleep until Yang had enough and forced her to.  
Yang had such hopes for their child when she’d first fallen pregnant, but with time, that hope became a disappointment, especially when they suspected you to be a waterbender. Who could have known back then that you were no waterbender; at least not like any Tapeesa had ever seen.  
And now here you were; almost a woman as you grew into your power; Yang’s utmost pride, so much better than he could have ever hoped you would be; stronger in every single aspect - to Tapeesa you were a monstrous freak of nature and a punishment from the Gods - for Yang, you were his chance for glory, his legacy and pride. Even if he wished you could be a little more heartless.

“I miss you,” You decided that if you were touching the topics you never dared to before, you might as well go the full way, “Why don’t you ever write to me?”  
Tapeesa bit down on her lip, clenching her hands together, “(Y/N)-”  
“-If you don’t hate me, I just...I don’t get why you’re so reluctant to spend time with me, I mean...I...I send you so many letters and gifts and I try so hard! I’ve been trying so hard for years to please you and to please father,” You were not even aware of the tears welling in your eyes at your sudden outburst, decades of suppressed emotions finally bursting from the surface.  
“And I...I want to have you in my life properly again...I…”  
Tapeesa’s heart clenched in her chest. No mother enjoyed seeing her daughter cry, but she also had no idea how to respond.  
So she said nothing.  
“Please just...just talk to me.” You felt so weak and small right now, but how else could you be?  
“I think it’s best you go, now.”  
“W-What?”  
“I…(Y/N), it’s best that you leave. It was nice seeing you again, today, but I think it’s best we call it quits for today-”  
“No! I...why can’t you just explain it to me? Why can’t you talk to me?” Thousands of unanswered questions swam around in your mind for years, and now you felt like you deserved those answers you spent moons questioning. “I don’t understand!”  
Tapeesa stood up abruptly, her gaze piercing through you at last. She was finally looking at you. 

But it wasn’t what you expected, and it wasn’t the way you wanted her to look at you.  
Her gaze was harsh, resentful, and yet you could see the sorrow and regret flowing in her irises. You wanted to cry, but you kept the tears in, even if your eyes were glassy.  
She looked afraid of you.  
Just as quickly as she looked at you, she averted her gaze, as if glimpsing at you for even a second was enough to burn her eyes with acid.  
“You have to leave!” Your mother’s voice crackled and broke as she cried out, “You must! I can’t bear to look at you right now...I…” Her body started to shake as she backed away from you, clenching onto the wall with her back pressed against it.  
“I can’t be around you. I just can’t...I know you don’t understand,” She wasn’t crying, but you could tell she felt trapped with you here, “But I just cannot be here with you.”

She didn’t want you knowing that each time her gaze fell upon you she could envision herself plunging a knife through your heart, or using a hair comb to slit your throat, or bashing your skull in with a decorative statuette.  
She was a horrible mother and she knew this - and though she felt far too sentimental to ever go through with it, she could not trust herself enough to risk it. You and she could never have a proper relationship because you were a cursed creature - the rotten fruit of her womb - and she...she was dangerous for you to be close to.  
There’d been times in the past she almost hurt you, and that fact alone made her scared to be alone with you.  
And though she feared you, what you were capable of - she was afraid to hurt you incomparably more than she worried about getting hurt.  
If anyone was to see the twisted thoughts that filled her head when she was in your presence, they would retch, the gore-stained fantasies would be enough to drive a healthy grown man into a terrible sickness.  
Her mind was broken. She was broken, flawed - repugnant, and perhaps, she projected her own self-hatred onto you, the extension of herself. But for as long as life remained the way it was, she could never nurture you as a mother should. 

She could see your inner lament whenever she saw you. Your regrets. The deaths you perpetrated troubled you, and that did bring her some peace of mind, however, she also understood that you were destined to be the bringer of death. All the omens pointed to it; she had been blind and far too hopeful to acknowledge them when she should have, though.  
Your grief and lament were not enough, not when you both knew that you would have to learn to kill effectively. It was no secret at court that you had a problem with death, but how long until your mind learnt to surpass that moral code, especially when bringing chaos and pain was praised by all those who immediately surrounded you?  
Even if you were not fully a monster yet, Tapeesa knew you would become one. And she could not bear to witness it happening in real-time with her own eyes.

She understood long ago that being a mother meant making sacrifices. She could not be by your side; this was her sacrifice. For the sake of your safety, you could not be around her. This was her act of ultimate love; by staying away from you, she granted you the gift of continued life.  
She was doing the right thing. She had to be. 

Seeing your wounded gaze with glossed-over eyes full of tears made her feel weak.  
But you needed to leave before...before her mind became warped with wicked impulsive whims that might result in your misfortune.  
“You disgust me!” She shrieked, making it hard for you to breath, hyperventilating. “I don’t hate you, but can’t be near you because you’re tainted…!”  
Tainted.  
Corrupt.  
Disgusting.  
You always knew, deep down, she saw you as such but until now it had remained buried under the dirt. Now, you’ve dug it all out to the surface and had no one else to blame but yourself.  
Feeling your barrier shatter by her words, your heart plunged into your chest and you swore you felt as it broke into a million pieces.  
Sitting up from your seat, you glared at her through teary eyes, shallow and sharp breaths filling the air as silence overcame you both once again, this time with mutual difficulties breathing from either rage, sorrow and high emotions sizzling in the atmosphere surrounding you both.  
“...I wish you did hate me, then!” You sobbed out, bitterness filling your voice, “Because then I could hate you, too.” Lifting the material of your dress, you ran out. 

Tapeesa’s instinct was to grab your arm and pull you close to her bosom, to hold you and shush you and sing you lullabies she hadn’t sung onto you in oh-so-long.  
But she had to be strong, now. You would never be safe around her. She was too unstable to be around you, too filled with malice towards life itself to be good for you.  
She loved you, she loved you so much that she knew that love would suffocate you if she allowed it to. And as much as she loved you, she refused to allow it to kill you. 

Being a mother meant making sacrifices.  
But this did not stop her from falling to her knees when the chamber doors were slammed shut, the echo sounding in her mind and serving as a cruel reminder that her life was not her own and as much as she’d like to, she would never be able to be a good part of her daughter’s life.  
Her mind would not permit her the freedom to be. 

Her familiar wails filled the bedroom as she sobbed on her knees, gagging and choking from her tears.  
Why couldn’t she just be a normal mother? Why couldn’t she look at you without all those gory visions and forsaken hallucinations of murder?  
She’d prayed to all deities, to all spirits, to all beings of the unknown and yet none heard her cries for all these years; none granted her wish for normalcy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fast-paced, stumbling legs fled from Tapeesa’s guest-chamber, your feet carrying you through every hallway and corridor in the Imperial Palace until you found your way outside to the gardens, lungs aflame with burning desire for oxygen. Gasping for air and choking on your pitiful sobs, you fell beside the turtle-duck pond, attempting to soothe yourself enough to breathe normally, but with little success.  
Your mother didn’t love you. 

Your woeful wails attracted the attention of the Turtle-ducks nearby, who studied you with curious pity. One of them floated its way to you, cooing up at you as if to comfort you. Letting out a broken laugh you sniffled. Such sweet, pure creatures.  
If you were ever reborn, you’d like to be an innocent good-willed turtle-duck, or perhaps a koi fish, elegant and wise.  
But your mother’s disgust in you, as you currently were, was founded in logic - but it didn’t extinguish the burning hole in your heart. You could never blame her, but you felt resentment towards her for being unable to love you. She was your mother, and yet even she found you repulsive.  
If your own mother could not bring herself to care for you - who would?  
Were you truly so wretched? So appalling, that no one would ever love you? 

Crying even harder, you suddenly felt someone else sit down beside you at the pond. Weakly, you lifted up your head, hair dishevelled and carelessly falling in front of your eyes. Gasping sharply, you could never mistake those raven locks for anyone else’s.  
Azula.  
She stared at you blankly, not revealing what she was thinking, sitting casually by the bond, her arms crossed over her chest. “P-Princess,” You gaped out hoarsely, wanting nothing more than to drown yourself in the pond after letting her see you like this.  
How pathetic could you possibly get? Why couldn’t you just be stronger? Why did you have to be so vulnerable and emotional and remarkably weak?  
Unworthy. You were unworthy of Azula’s attention, much less her friendship. She was everything you weren’t; breathtaking, graceful, powerful and, most importantly; unafraid to act. She was strong and confident in her abilities and unlike you, she wasn’t scared of hurting a few people for the greater good.  
You were too inadequate to even bring yourself to break a couple of necks for the greater good, and yet you still caused tremendous suffering; stuck halfway and in-between.  
Why was it so hard for you to just...decide? 

Azula’s gaze cut through you, but it wasn’t as disappointed nor as judgemental as you had expected it to be. Dare you even consider that there was a drop of empathy in her eyes?  
Clicking her tongue and uncrossing her arms, placing her left hand on the ground behind her to stabilise her position as she sat on the ground beside you, she spoke.  
“I knew this would be where you’d run to,” She declared, “You always come here when you’re distressed.”  
Still softly sobbing, you stared up at her, confused. She let out a bothered sigh, “Half the palace must’ve heard you and your mother. Could you have been any louder?” Scoffing, she looked at her right hand, checking the state of her nails, as if bored.  
Normally, the sight of your tears excited her. She couldn’t explain it, but seeing you cry was exhilarating - but not this time. She loved it when she could get into your psyche and mess with you until you wept, but the knowledge that your current waterfall of woe wasn’t her doing frustrated her to no ends.  
It felt..uncanny - it felt wrong - for you to be crying because that stupid bitch didn’t appreciate you and your talents.  
You looked so beautiful with simmering tears in your eyes, but only if she provoked them.  
Otherwise, you just looked pathetic and gross.  
And only the spirits knew why, but she felt the creeping desire to hold you in her arms - she wouldn’t do something so impulsive, of course, but the urge was there for some...unknown reason. It made her uneasy to feel subtle pain in her hard heart at the visage of your red-eyed, tear-stained face.  
Azula couldn’t even count the number of times she’d seen you cry because of your birth-giver and in her humble opinion, that horrid simpleton wasn’t worthy of your pretty tears. 

Azula couldn’t understand what was going through your mother’s mind; how could she not respect you? How could she not be pleased by your achievements? You were a new breed of bender; never before heard of.  
Only a fool could be blind to your virtues, and your mother was blatantly an uneducated, Water-tribe peasant to be so awe-inspiringly stupid. Tapeesa of the Water Tribe was an even greater fool than Azula’s own mother had been to underappreciate her. Not that she was plagued by her mother’s failure as, well, a mother; but it was...something that bothered her. Mildly.

“Look,” She spoke up after a moment of listening to your faint cries, trying to think of a way to stop your weeping. Why did it bother her so much? She didn’t...she didn’t understand why in the whole time she’d known you, she detested seeing you so troubled if she wasn’t both the source and easement of your sorrow. “...I...am only going to say this once, so you better listen because I will not repeat myself - ever - because I have far too much honour to ever say this again.”  
Reluctantly, you turned to her, and the miserable gleam in your (E/C) eyes should have made her terribly amused but they didn’t. Seeing your puffy red eyes and dried, crusty face made her...emotional?  
What were you doing to her?  
Rolling her eyes, she huffed, shifting her pose so she was facing you and more comfortable on the ground, visibly feeling awkward, her tone wavering, “I’m….” She swallowed shallowly, “I’m...proud of you...I guess,” She’d never been one for encouraging or praising others, and even in the past with you, she limited appraisal as much as she could; she didn’t usually like being ‘nice’.  
But for you, she could make the exception. Because...she liked you - playing with you - she liked to play with you and a sad toy wasn’t a fun toy.  
Yes. That was it.  
Nothing more than that…  
Azula paid no mind to the blush on her cheeks, pretending it was non-existent, “I mean, when we met, you were like, absolutely clueless and incredibly feeble-minded,” But of course, Azula couldn’t be sweet without being a little sour, “And I was already a brilliant firebender at such a young age so, like...you improved a lot since then.” But she was trying her best, and you could see that. 

And you loved her for it.  
More than she would ever know.

“So like...you’ve made progress.” She turned to look at the nasty turtle-ducks, feeling a sudden urge to throw a loaf of bread at them to release her tensions. You frustrated her beyond belief! She wished she knew why she felt like this around you. Whatever, you were just...pleasant to be around.  
Wiping your eyes you smiled wistfully, “Thank you, Azula.”  
She could tell it wasn’t enough.  
“And besides, who cares what she thinks?” She added with disapproval, “You’re your own person. It’s not as if you need her in your life, she never even writes to you, what sort of mother is she, anyway?”  
Wincing at Azula’s unintentional jabs to your unhealed wounds, you couldn’t help but agree. She had a point - she always did. Azula knew what was best for you.  
“You can’t start crying every time mommy says something mean.” From her tone alone you knew she was annoyed with how sensitive you tended to get over the smallest of things. She was mocking you, but she had every right to do so.  
You were weak. Weak, weak, weak, weak, weak.  
“Besides, we both know my mother thought I was terrible, too. And look where she ended up,” Azula smirked at you, but you instantly noticed the vulnerability concealed behind the glass of her eyes. “Our….mothers think we’re monsters.” You spoke up with a raw voice. Azula paused, muscles suspending for a moment before she hummed nonchalantly, “Well, of course, they do; they’re envious. Mine was, and so is yours.”  
You blinked.  
“They wish they had our capabilities. I mean, think about it,” Azula’s whispers crept into your mind, planting seedlings of esteem and resentment, “What is the greatest achievement your mother’s ever accomplished?” Narrowing her eyes with smugness she locked her eyes with yours, “Giving birth to you.” she answered before you could speak.  
This was the aspect of Azula you cherished the most. She never told you she cared about you or loved you or appreciated you; because she didn’t have to. Her actions were everything. They always were.  
You spent your entire life wondering whether your father and mother cared for you. But never with Azula. Or Zuko.  
They had been the only two people in your world whose love you dared not doubt.  
“Her life’s greatest accomplishment is childbirth - but you? You can bend blood. And - I am only saying this once, so be grateful you’re hearing me say this at all -” She paused before sighing, a soft, twisted smile on her face as darkness crept into her eyes, “Think about all we’ll accomplish together in the future - side-by-side, we’ll be able to achieve total control over all the lands! With me as the greatest Firelord in history and you’ll be my right-hand, of course.”

Tears were reborn in your eyes and you swallowed new sobs, but this time it was because of your gratitude for Azula. Overwhelming adoration and the purest of love for her.  
Before you knew what you were doing, your arms were around her physique, clenching onto her for dear life.  
She yelped in surprise, eyes wide as she blinked wildly with furrowed eyebrows as you held onto her for dear life, nuzzling into her chest. Instinctively she looked around, relieved that no one was around, or else she would have to threaten them to keep quiet about this embarrassing moment.  
Despite this, she sucked in a breath and looked down at your forlorn, touch-starved figure and begrudgingly she wrapped her arms around you, too, pulling you into her.  
She was far from being a good hugger - physical affection was so not her thing;  
But it was what you needed right now and though she would not be caught dead doing this if anyone else was present (she would have pushed you away quicker than you could ask why), she also had a natural affinity for you which gave you far more influence over her than she would ever let you know you possessed.  
Not to mention...you were warm. And...soft.  
Hearts pounding in your mutual chests, you felt mortified you did that but also felt too embarrassed to let her go. It felt so...tender, being held by her, if only for a moment. You were honestly surprised she hadn’t immediately argued or shoved you off her. She’d do that, sometimes.  
Other times, she seemed to enjoy your touches, though.

But she was right. You...you had to be stronger. You adored Ursa when she was here, but you had to confess she was far from being a good mother for Azula, and if Azula could take that maternally-caused suffering and transform it into strength - so could you.  
If not for yourself, or your father, or your country - then for her.  
Azula couldn’t explain the reasons behind why but being close to you felt right. As if it was meant to be like this.  
...But it’s not as if she needed you here. It was just...nice, to have you around. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so Zuko’s shipped sailed towards a nearby dock to stop for resources, Zuko sending one of his men out to attain the food for that week, going to plot the map some more. 

When supper finally arrived, Zuko and Iroh sat at their table, anxiety eating away at the young ex-prince when his cook walked in with their fish-based dishes, suddenly informing them that, 

“The Avatar's on Kyoshi Island?” Zuko demanded, repeating the given news as he stared at the Cook, arising from his seat, hurrying out of the room, “Uncle, ready the rhinos. He's not getting away from me this time!”  
Iroh felt pity in the depths of his stomach but it was overridden by his internalised joy to see his nephew animated and excited once more, even if deep down, Iroh knew that things would likely not go as planned.  
But hope dies last.  
“Are you going to finish that?” He teased, pointing to the smoking fish. Zuko huffed, grabbing his plate, “I was going to save it for later!”  
Iroh watched his nephew walk out and then crossed his arms, turning to go the other way. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ship’s walkway lowered as Zuko stared out at the village, riding his rhino with his soldiers. This was it. This time he would capture the Avatar. He had to.  
“I want the Avatar alive.”  
With those words, Zuko rode forward on his rhino, his men following him in search of the Avatar.

Once they made it to the centre of the village, Zuko looked around, agitated. “Come out, Avatar!” He yelled out tauntingly, all the frustrations he’d bottled up since the events with Zhao coming out of him all at once, overwhelming him with wrath.  
“You can't hide from me forever!”  
Noticing the pitiful villagers hiding in their homes made Zuko smirk, feeling drunk off the power. He could burn this pathetic little island to the ground if he so chose to - and right now, especially if the Avatar didn’t stop playing these mind games with him - he would do exactly that.  
“Find him!”  
Galloping on their rhinos, the sound of stomping hooves shaking the ground, they continued through the island only to be ambushed by the Kyoshi Warriors. Zuko hissed under his breath as some of his men were thrown off their rhinos. Some of the brats jumped off roofs and kicked his soldiers, agitating the banished prince.  
He noticed one of them running straight at him, frustrated, he sent a blast of flames her way. Nothing was going to get in his way! Not this time.  
The warrior jumped out of the way of his blasts, jumping up in the air but before she could jump down on him, he turned his rhino, sending a particularly heated wave of flames her way. Another - oddly buffier - warrior jumps in front, fanning his flames out.  
Zuko growled in frustration, about to attack again when he felt the impact of being shoved off his rhino, falling on the ground and watching the beast flee away.  
Narrowing his eyes and hating being made a fool of, they were going to get it now…!  
Pushing himself up rapidly, Zuko prepared his battle stance, twisting his body on his hand as he shot fire out of his feet, knocking the Kyoshi Warriors nearby backwards, slamming one into a pole. Shooting a low-kick of flames to the remaining warrior’s way, only for them to jump over.  
Thinking fast, and needing to get out of this situation, Zuko kicked their feet from underneath them, just like he’d done with Zhao, the move Iroh had taught him coming in useful yet again. 

Huh. My his uncle’s training wasn’t useless. 

“Nice try, Avatar! But these little girls can't save you!” It was almost comedic to have a bunch of girls who played dress-up trying to take him down. He was the son of the Firelord, and some non-bending wannabe warriors weren’t about to defeat him.  
Finally, the Avatar revealed himself. Zuko gritted his teeth, ready to bite. This is the moment he’d been waiting for the entire time. 

“Finally!” Enthusiastically, Zuko proudly prepared the battle of his life - for real, this time.  
Sending two fireballs in the Avatar’s direction, Zuko is ready to finish this and revive the life he had before his downfall. The Avatar ducked underneath the first projectile and used his staff to decimate the second fireball. He rapidly spun the staff over his head, propelling himself in the air and landing right in front of Zuko.  
Determination burning in his eyes, Zuko tripped the Avatar off his stability, causing him the jump up and land in-between two Kyoshi Warrior fans, discarded from the previous fight. Zuko raised an eyebrow - was the Avatar seriously about to try attacking him with fans, of all things?  
Pathetic.  
Zuko yelled out a cry, charging at the Avatar with his fist, tightly closed together, only for the Avatar to spin around, blasting Zuko into a nearby structure by the use of airbending.  
The forsaken Avatar took off, running down the street, getting on his stupid glider. 

The exciting scent of fire filled the atmosphere and Zuko couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, coughing as he shakily stood up. He needed to go after the Avatar, but he was glad to see this ridiculous village set aflame, burning down into ashes.  
If nothing else, then at least he was the reason Kyoshi Island got their Avatar-worshipping due in blood.  
His smile was wiped of his face when he saw the Avatar’s bison in the air, flying. “Back to the ship! Don't lose sight of them!” He ran to the ship, gesturing for his men to follow him.  
He was not about to let the Avatar get away from him again! He couldn’t…  
His entire life, future and hope depended on the Avatar’s capture - he would never regain his needed honour if he couldn’t accomplish this…  
It was selfish and he knew it damn well. But he also didn’t care. 

He’d chase the Avatar into the ends of this Earth if it meant he would regain his reputation. Even if his father allowed him to return without the Avatar, it wouldn’t be good enough. Not until he proved himself….! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were at your desk and practising calligraphy and reviewing the events of the past day with a solemn sigh when the familiar caw of your hawk drew your attention to your window. Smiling, you dropped your ink-stained brush and rushed to your window, smiling at (H/N).  
“There you are, Little One!” You cheered as your hawk perched itself on your elbow. You kissed their little head and then took the two attached letters from the ribbons tied to (H/N)’s feet.  
“Thank you,” You whispered and (H/N) snuggled to you, then went to sit and rest in their cage.

Holding your breath you sat down at your desk, seeing the two letters. Zuko wrote back.  
Eagerly, you untied the paper, unrolling the scroll and reading through it, smiling wildly as your chest set on fire in the best of ways.  
“Zuko…”  
As soon as you finished reading his and Iroh’s letters, you picked up your brush and started writing a response.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Staring up at the sky, Tapeesa dejectedly turned to face the Imperial Palace before going into her carriage. She sighed, regretful and sorrowful, before sitting herself down and being taken far away into her lavish prison most called ‘home’, not knowing when she would see her child next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading <3 Please comment and leave a kudos, they're always appreciated!  
> What do you think of Tapeesa?  
> How do you guys think the story will go? ;)  
> Who do you think the reader will end up with?


	6. Chapter Five: Yearning of the Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this Chapter: Soft smut/masturbation scene towards the end.   
> A reminder that Azula and every other character is aged up!

The candlelight covered the desk in a warm, delicate glow as you sat by the moonlit window, reading and re-reading the letters sent from Zuko thus far.   
(H/N) was asleep beside you, perched inside their golden cage. Smiling to yourself, you sighed dreamily, your finger tracing the calligraphy on the pages. You had no idea why you were so giddy ever since he’d replied to your letter, but you couldn’t contain yourself. It’s been far too long since you spoke with him and even if you couldn’t physically see him, writing letters was more than enough to fill that void inside your soul - the hole he left within your heart with his absence.   
You wondered, then, if every girl gets like this at some point because of a lover; so...deliciate?   
Though you giggled at the prospect of anyone ever gaining enough of Azula’s affection to get her into such a love-plagued state.   
Now that you thought about it, Azula never did seem very interested in boys - at least not like Ty-Lee could be, which maybe was a little strange, considering even Mai had a crush on-

Your thoughts came to an immediate halt as you bit your lip, remembering things you wished you didn’t.   
You glanced down at the sheet of paper beneath you, rolling it back up and tying it with a ribbon gracefully, and then hiding it in a wooden box hidden underneath your bed - where you kept most of your special, personal items.   
You didn’t want to think, anymore. Especially if your thoughts were now determined on focusing on Mai’s old crush on Zuko. It had been the most obvious thing to you all, back in those days of innocence, and often, Azula teased her for it. Surprisingly enough, she hardly teased you about Zuko - and you had been engaged to him. If anything, now that you gave yourself time to reflect on everything, she always seemed sour regarding your relationship.   
You understood that Azula loved you; she loved you as her dearest friend, and even from that early age she was possessive of things she cared about, so maybe it wasn’t even that strange and you were simply overanalysing the past.   
Standing up, you covered your mouth as you yawned, stretching and sliding under your covers, eyelids falling down by themselves.   
It was late and you needed sleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frustration clawing at her bones, Azula leaned against the doorway of her balcony, glaring at the crescent moon.   
She should be sleeping, but instead, she had to fight off the plethora of thoughts plaguing her mind. Her arms crossed, she huffed to herself, the night’s gentle wind blowing through her raven hair. Sleepy but tortured by her own mind, Azula spun back inside her chambers, closing the balcony doors and storming to her bed, blowing the candle she was holding out as she tried to climb under her covers and sleep.   
It annoyed her to no end, but she struggled to sleep alone these nights. Most times, she could sleep easily and efficiently, but as time went on, she started to crave your presence. It was bothersome.   
What was so great about you, anyway, that made her feel so secure?  
Whatever it was, it was affecting her sleep schedule. Perhaps, it was the fear of her nightmares. She rarely had them nowadays, but when they did occur, she found fear swimming inside of her; the most pitiful emotion.   
Maybe it was because you stopped those nightmares from happening, that she wanted you around her during these late nights.  
...or maybe, it was because of how warm you were - and how winter was here, on swift wings, making her want to be around your glow.  
Or the way your nose crinkled when you smiled...Azula smiled to herself, a rich blush coating her cheeks until her eyes widened and she nictitated, mortified of her thoughts. What was she even thinking-  
Shaking her head she vehemently groaned and threw her head back into her pillow, trying to block out her own mind.  
If only these haunting thoughts of you could allow her some peace. 

This was all your fault - she didn’t know why, or how - but it was. You did something to her - whenever she was close you, Azula felt at home, and it wasn’t an emotion she was proud of. Regardless of what was happening to her, she hated it.  
She hated you - but she didn’t, no, she could never hate you - just...hate the things you did to her. Things you weren’t even remotely aware that you did. How dare you be so cute with your sparkling (E/C) eyes and pretty rose-tinted lips and soft (S/C) skin…  
Before long, Azula found herself lulled from her aggressive state into something more passive; a sullen grumpiness. She was too tired to fight against her mind’s insistence to flash images and thoughts of you in front of her mind’s eye, and dare she even admit - to herself - that out of all things to fall asleep to, the sight of you was far from being the worst.   
Granted, the imagined vision of you was only a poor substitute for the real thing, but it would have to suffice. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When your eyes fluttered open with the kiss of Dawn, the first thing that was on your mind was Zuko, your heart still gliding with giddiness. A smile formed itself on your lips as you stared out the window at the sunrise, heart feeling warm.   
For several moments you laid there, motionless, hands on your belly as you breathed in and out. You were not a firebender, but you got into the habit of helping both Azula and Zuko with their morning breathing exercises when you were children. Ever since then, you found that the practise helped ground you for the day ahead.  
After moments passed through the hourglass of time, you got out of your bed and dressed appropriately for the day ahead, all the while your mind filled with thoughts of Zuko. He wrote back! He wrote back…!   
You’d already prepared to send the next letters, of course, and would do so this evening. (H/N) needed their rest.   
Sitting at your vanity, you brushed through your (h/c) locks with newfound excitement. After what felt like an eternity of misery, Zuko finally gave you a seedling of joy, and you were going to take it for all it was worth.   
It was bittersweet, really; you missed him. You missed him so deeply it wounded your very soul. You told yourself this was normal - you grew up together and in your youth, you’d never really been apart for more than a few days before his banishment.   
He’d always been there, and even after three long, treacherous years, you still were not accustomed to life without him in it.  
But now that you had crossed that bridge and made that initial rekindling contact, you couldn’t help but feel celebratory. You wished, then, that you could tell someone about it but you dared not to even utter a word, reminding yourself no one must know.  
Especially not Azula.

Your euphoria came to a sudden, unexpected standstill when Azula sailed into the ocean of your mind, the brush in your hand freezing mid-stroke. Guilt.   
You had no idea why you always felt guilty these days when you thought about Zuko. It felt almost like a betrayal to Azula, and the mere idea of that burned your veins through your skin. You would never betray her - never willingly, never intentionally.   
And you weren’t - you weren’t doing anything of the sort…! Even...even if Zuko was a banished prince, he still was close to your heart and you wanted, selfishly, to have them both in your life.   
Zuko had been your first - and only - lover, and though young and foolish as all young love was, it had been unforgettable.   
Everyone acted as if Zuko and Iroh never existed, and that hurt you worse than if you were to lay still in a forest fire. In the very rare moments where you would mention Zuko to Azula, you could tell it irked her even if she pretended it didn’t.  
But this was treason-worthy; writing letters to your exiled ex-lover and Iroh. You couldn’t imagine telling her about this, ever.   
Even though you wished to share every aspect of your life with her, you knew you couldn’t. 

You felt stuck.  
Then again, when didn’t you? Your whole life was being trapped between one outcome and another, and it was the same with the royal siblings. 

Bile rose to your throat and you swallowed it, continuing to get ready for the day ahead.   
Azula was right, you thought too much.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The search for the Avatar was tedious and troublesome, with little to no way of knowing where he is. Zuko and Iroh searched far and wide as they had for the past three years, but this time at least with the knowledge he was out there.   
Hearing news of a Fire Nation prison rig having rebellions through the grapevine, Zuko decided that was as good of a trail as any to follow. Whilst not specifically implying the Avatar’s presence, the fact these Earthbenders had not revolted until now was suspicious, and what reason could there be if not for their renewed hope at the return of he, who could ruin all of Fire Nation’s plans? 

By the time he and Iroh got to the rig, nothing remained but dust and corpses of some unfortunate guards. The prisoners had fled, and guards were either dead or had run away. Whatever occurred here, it was a grim reminder of what laid ahead for the Fire Nation if the Avatar is not stopped. A hundred years of fighting for the good cause - to share the glory of the Fire Nation’s superiority may all be for nothing should the Avatar succeed.   
He realised, now, that he had to find and capture the Avatar not only for his selfish reasons but also for his Empire’s future. If the Empire was to succeed, they needed the Avatar out of the way before he could cause such mass destruction of an untold scale. 

Zuko stood alone in the rubble, staring up at the setting sun when a glint caught his eyes. Turning his attention to the ground, he stared down at a discarded necklace in confusion but then grimaced. That was a water tribe necklace.   
He crouched down, observing it after lifting it off the dirty ground. Indeed, this was a one-of-a-kind necklace that surely belonged to the Avatar’s waterbending ally. He stood and stared at the sunset, the ripped blue necklace in his hand as he thought.   
This could be a good item to keep with him. One way or another, it might assist them in discovering the Avatar’s current whereabouts, they just had to find out how. 

The exiled prince had to admit that this was a stunning necklace, beautifully crafted, yet simple in its nature. Nothing like Fire Nation jewellery, which always had been about extravagant glamour.   
He remembered giving a gift like that to (Y/N), making his heart freeze in his chest.   
Each day for the last three years, Zuko had attempted to continuously distract himself from thinking about her actively, knowing that when he did, it caused him far too much strife.   
Being away from her hurt worse than if his father was to burn him thousand times over. No punishment could have been worse than taking him away from her.  
She was the love of his life. He was young - he knew that those around him believed that this would be a love that fades with time, that he would surely fall in love again. He wanted his first love to be his last. Zuko doubted anyone else could ever make him feel as many emotions as she did; make him feel as loved and at home as she could.   
No one else would ever be good enough for him, but her.   
There was always the possibility she had moved on, and it broke him to even consider each time. He was too afraid to ask it in a letter, nor did he know how to even go about asking such a thing.   
But he prayed to each higher being that may exist that she would keep the promise she made to him before he was forced away from her tender embrace.   
‘I’ll wait for you.’

He clenched the necklace in his palm to stop himself from getting too emotional. He had to keep a clear, level head.   
If he was going to succeed and be with her again, he was going to have to focus and remain on task at all times. Nothing could - nothing would - get in his way.   
Not this time.   
When Zuko returned home, he would never leave her again. After regaining his honour, he was going to stay by her side forever and would sooner die than be forced away from her again.   
He couldn’t wait to see her wear his gift again.   
She had looked so gorgeous in the golden jewellery set he gave to her all those years ago, and he was certain she must’ve only gotten far more beautiful over these years. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dawn faded into dusk as per the order of the world, and you found yourself sitting on the wooden floor of your chambers, glancing up at the door to ensure no one was about to enter, your nerves high.   
Your day had been just like any other, and yet today...you couldn’t help but think about Zuko.   
You felt happy - but that feeling felt forbidden in these palace walls. Happiness was contraband.   
You had your letters ready to attach onto (H/N), who was patiently waiting for you to send them off to wherever Zuko and Iroh may be. You hesitated and reached beneath your bed to get the wooden box underneath it, pulling it out, hands hoovering above it but you sighed, shaking your head and standing back up, dusting your hands.   
Maybe later.   
You didn’t want to look into it right now. 

Picking up the letters, you made sure they were securely tied to (H/N), and you smiled at them, kissing their little hawk head and cooing at them. “Thank you, Little One.” You whispered tenderly, “You are doing an immense favour for me by sending these letters. I love you very much.” If you were being honest, (H/N) was like a child to you.   
Perhaps they were just a hawk, but to you, they were your very own baby.   
Opening your window, you held your hand out so your trustful hawk could fly out into the violet sky.   
Taking in a deep breath as you watched them fly away, you longed for wings of your own - only to remind yourself that your rightful place was here.   
You belonged here.   
With Azula. 

The temptation to look into the box was overwhelming you, though, and you tried to resist it; you agreed with yourself last year that you would only put things into it, if need be, and never look into it again. The box...it held your past. It was the physical manifestation of everything you ought to leave behind - except now with Zuko and you rekindling through letters, you wondered whether reminiscing the past would be such an awful thing…  
Unable to restrain yourself any longer, you crouched down and swiftly pulled the handpainted box out of its hiding spot, turning your head to double, and then triple check, that your door was closed.   
When you were satisfied with your security, you sat on your bed, the box on your lap, your fingers tenderly following the direction of the brush strokes.   
You still recalled the day you’d painted this.

With a melancholic smile, you unlocked the box’s golden hatch and sucked a breath in, moving the new letter from Zuko to the side, staring at the prize object of the whole bundle.   
The golden ornament shined in the candlelit room, tears starting to gather in your (E/C) eyes.   
You stroked the handcrafted hairpiece with loving affection, heart swelling with bittersweet memories and long-gone delight. The ornament was stunning - gentle gold with delicate carvings that resembled the wings of a great dragonfly and the sweetest tiny ochre flowers made of exquisite metal adorned the front.   
In your life, you’d owned grander things. The moment your life was turned upside down and you were thrown into life at court, your father ensured you got dresses of the latest fashions and prettiest jewellery of the season, right after the royals and nobles of the Empire. You owned other hairpieces, combs, earrings and necklaces that were far more extravagant - but they were soulless tacky things. 

The shining golden headdress in your little box of secrets was the most beautiful thing you owned; not only for its refined elegance but for it held the most value in your eyes.   
The ensemble - that came with the same style of hairpins and some earrings in a set - was a gift. A special present from Zuko; one that you were certain Ursa had a hand in picking for him - for your birthday.   
You could also remember the remark he made that day.  
‘I’ll...I’ll get you one twice as grand for our wedding’  
Zuko never really was one with words - he struggled with them, often - expressing himself wasn’t something he held an affinity for. Despite this, there were times he could be the sweetest. You liked to believe that was Zuko as his best self, without the external pressures of life prodding at him.   
Oh, how you did swoon. And you swooned over that memory, still.  
Guilt poked at your heart for various reasons.  
Firstly; It felt like a betrayal of Azula, as ridiculous as it was. You loved Azula in a vastly different way than you loved Zuko - didn’t you? So then, why did it feel as if this were a lover’s betrayal? It made no sense.   
Secondly; it felt like a betrayal of Zuko. As though you had destroyed your worthiness of being part of his life by refusing to follow him into the vast unknown.   
You felt guilt for staying and yet felt guilt for even considering leaving. To go, to stay; either way, you feared sin would haunt you endlessly.  
Placing the box to the side, you inhaled and exhaled in rhythm with some basic firebending breathing exercises, feeling your senses soothed. With shaky hands you reached into the box, pulling the ornament out and turning to view your reflection in the mirror, gulping as you stood, gold in hand, nightgown trailing on the wooden floor as you walked towards the mirror, placing it onto your head and gasping as your chest clenched tightly and tears descended from your eyes. 

You looked perfect.  
It had been so long that you long since forgot how stunning you looked wearing it.   
A stone dropped from your heart and you sniffled in a sob. You’d promised to yourself that you would stop crying so often, and you were going to fulfil that promise.   
But, regardless, the emotional vulnerability remained. 

Your reflection was enchanting. The headdress was even lovelier than you’d remembered. 

Eyes fluttering closed, you smiled wistfully as you could see everything in your mind once more; all the good times with Zuko, all the sweet, tender moments, all the sorrowful moments that turned into comfort.   
Sitting by the turtleduck pond, swimming together at Ember Island, watching plays together along with Ursa and Azula and even; dancing together.   
Dancing...was not exactly a very accepted art in the Empire, but the few times you had done it, it’d been with Zuko.  
Many of your firsts had been with him, or by his side. Your first dance, first kiss, first dates…

He was supposed to be your first, last and only.   
But Fate, the cruellest of celestial powers, had vastly different plans for you both, it seemed. 

An unexpected knock on your bedroom door shook you to the core with panic as you scrambled to remove the glittering gold out of your hair.   
“I, uh...w-who is it!?” You called out, trying - and failing - to conceal the alert in your voice.   
You stood abruptly, rushing to the open box on your bed and haphazardly threw the headdress in, locking it, all the while turning to make sure whoever was outside wasn’t coming in at that very moment, your heart pounding in anxiety.   
“It’s Liyu, Miss Li, I’m one of Princess Azula’s maids.”   
you placed the box down on the floor just as the door opened, and the maid stood awkwardly at the frame. You nervously giggled and stood in a way that blocked any view of the box behind you, kicking it under your bed discreetly, a little peeved she just entered without your approval.   
“Yes? Is something wrong?”  
The maid - Liyu - shook her head. “Uh, the Princess she,” she cleared her throat - she was new, you believed, - “She demands-” she corrected herself, embarrassed, “-uh, she requests - yes - she requests your presence in her chambers.”   
Liyu was cursing her awkwardness. “I see,” You smiled assuringly at her, nodding your head, “I’ll be right there. Thank you for informing me, Miss Liyu.” your politeness seemed to surprise her, especially the fact you bothered to use any formality with a maid like herself, but you saw in her eyes it was well appreciated and put her more at ease. Clearly she heard some rumours about you being some bloodbending tyrant to be feared.  
Being one of Azula’s maids....you weren’t surprised the girl was so frantic.

Liyu lingered in your doorway for a few more seconds before blinking, realising she was expected to leave and turned to do just that.   
You let out a sharp breath of relief, falling down to sit on your bed and calm yourself. That was close - far too close.   
Logically no one would think much of you trying on a pretty headdress, especially since you weren’t even sure if anyone would realise it was the one given to you by Zuko, and even if they did, you doubted anyone apart from Azula and maybe the Firelord would care.   
Despite this, the fear of being caught with it was immense. If anyone was to discover the box itself, you’d be in shameful trouble, since that was where you kept every letter Iroh had sent you, and now the ones from Zuko, too.   
As for the ornament itself; even if no one would realise the symbolic value it held, you felt wrong allowing anyone to see you wearing it. It felt prohibited.

Standing up off your bed you made sure that you looked presentable and most of all; tranquil, before making your way down the halls towards Azula’s chambers, a path you knew so well you could walk it blind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Princess of Celeruean Flames stood outside on her balcony, leaning forwards with arms crossed on the exquisite barrier, staring out at the setting sun. So many - too many - thoughts fought over dominance in her mind and she was becoming quickly overwhelmed.   
Breathe in, breathe out.  
Her mind drifted towards that night where you’d stood beside her out here, hands held tightly together. It brought an unwanted blush to her cheeks that she wished would go away.   
Thoughts of you were going to be her downfall.   
Thoughts of you were her happy place.   
And she hated that you held so much power over her. It was...to be expected, though. You were a presence she’s had since she was young so some reluctant attachment was anticipated. Yes. That’s what you were - a presence in her life - her favourite presence - but nothing more. 

Li (Y/N) was not someone she required in her life to make her feel complete. This was the truth. 

...So why did it feel like a lie?

Before she could fixate on her surely non-existing feelings for you because that would be ridiculous, and all she felt was a warm fondness and nothing more - she saw a bird flying out of your chamber window into the evening skies.   
She observed the bird - your hawk; your hawk that she had given to you all that time ago - was flying far, far away and she couldn’t help but wonder what for?   
Her mind immediately jumped to thoughts of betrayal - a coup d’etat, a scheme, plot against her or her father - but she needed to steady herself.   
Gripping the balcony barrier with her manicured hands, she breathed in and out heavily. She was jumping to conclusions far too quickly because she knew you would never dare betray her.   
….right?   
You...owed everything to her. Surely, you wouldn’t bite the hand that feeds?  
Soothing her nerves, Azula scolded herself for being too on-edge. After the intel given to her tonight, though, could anyone really blame her?   
She wondered whether or not to inform you of the news, knowing that it would likely only feed into your already foolish sense of hope, but...she felt like it was something she ought to tell you before you learned of it through grapevine rumours. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You raised your arm to knock on Azula’s bedroom door, but before you could the door opened itself,   
and there stood your beautiful childhood friend. “There you are!” She hissed, grabbing your arm and pulling you inside, slamming her door behind you.   
“Woah!” a yelp escaped you as she dragged you to her bed, basically throwing you onto it. You gasped in shock, but you found yourself feeling oddly...excited, dare you even say - aroused.   
“Azula?” You breathed out, sitting up on the bed as you watched her sit on the other side, crossing her legs. “There is something I just learnt,” she explained with her velvet voice, combing her fingers through her hair.  
You wished that was you running your hands through those silky locks - the thought was sudden and abrasive as it caused your face to glow a warm rose shade. “O-oh?” You inquired, clearing your throat as you tried to steady yourself.   
These thoughts were getting out of hand, lately. You had often had loving thoughts about her, but lately, they’ve been hitting you differently. For the past year or so, you’ve been feeling a new sort of affection for her that you could not comprehend.   
“What I am about to indulge is...troublesome.” She added, her tone informative and harsh, “Try not to get too excited by it. I’m only telling you because...well, I think you should know it before the rumours get out.” Whatever this was, it was a big deal - or at the very least, Azula was making it out to be a big deal and was doing you a huge favour by making you privy to this insinuated-top-secret information.   
“The Avatar is alive.” 

Out of all potential things to exist on this Earth, that was the one thing you hadn’t expected to come out her lips. The Avatar - the legend, the myth that was said to be just that; a false hope, non-existent myth - was...alive? 

“I told you,” She added, heeding the confused-yet-thrilled gleam in your eyes, “Don’t get too excited. It’s just a...possibility, at the moment.”   
You gripped onto the soft silken covers of the bed, crimpling it beneath your fingers in anticipation.   
“Apparently - that’s the keyword here -” she continued, almost speaking as if to a child, but you didn’t mind it, you were used to her being less-than-kind - it was just who she was. “-Commander Zhao claims that the Avatar lives and is out there, somewhere.” She sighed, “Which if it’s true then it’s going to be a lot more problematic for us than we hoped, with Sozin’s comet coming up soon.”   
Azula groaned in annoyance, tsking, “However, this is probably just Zhao going to pathetic extremes to get more superior status in the Fire Nation. I wouldn’t get your hopes up just yet.”   
What she was telling you…  
It could change everything! If...if the Avatar was alive, then Zuko could capture him and bring him home and then he and Iroh could come back!   
He and Iroh could...they would be...here.   
Zuko could be here, by your side.   
Like it should be. 

Seeing your reaction, Azula felt bitterness crawling up through her skin into her heart, poisoning her from inside out. The way your eyes shimmered with faith, your uplifted lips turned upwards ever-so-slightly, the furrowing of your brows and shocked but sanguine pallor on your face - it sickened her. It was disgusting because you looked beautiful. You looked happy - and it wasn’t her doing - it was his.   
Without even needing to mention his name, that was instantly where your mind always seemed to fly off to.  
Zuzo.  
Three years - it had been three years since his banishment and yet, you just couldn’t seem to let him go.   
Everyone else moved on. Everyone else went on with their lives - so why couldn’t you? So what, you and her pathetic little coward of a brother had that silly forced romance - it wasn’t as though either of you was even old enough to understand what you’d be getting into with that arranged marriage, if anything Zuzu’s banishment was the best outcome for you.   
You could be yourself, now that he was gone; no longer were you simply “Prince Zuko’s Fiancee”, instead you were rather famous and most importantly; feared. She made sure of that - everything you were now, you owed to her. Who was the one who helped you train all these years? Who helped you with your physical exercises, who made sure you ate well, and that you would never get hurt without a good reason? She did!   
And yet, even still - you refused to release your childish attachment to her idiot of a brother. 

Inhaling in, and out, Azula clenched her jaw and gritted her teeth together silently. You were still off in la-la-land, having fantasies of reuniting with her exiled brother, no doubt. 

She wasn’t expecting you to forget about him completely. She acknowledged, even if she didn’t understand, that you cared about him, even if he was a failure. If anything, it warmed her heart a little, to know that you could still see him as worthy of your time despite the fact he was a top-tier failure of a man - much less a Prince.   
But she was here, and every single time you disappeared into your mindscape she couldn’t help but wonder whether it was him you were thinking of - but she was here! Here, with you, in the flesh, and yet it seemed she still wasn’t enough for you. 

‘Would (Y/N) still think about him if he were dead? ‘

The thought was so sharp it even surprised her, and she had to physically blink to recover from the hit of it. Azula would’ve loved to say she didn’t give the intrusive idea any further thought, but that would be a lie.   
Of course, she’d never do anything to him - unless, of course, he decided to be more of a fool and get more in her way. As things stood, though, he was safe, on his tiny little ship in the middle of the ocean, miles and miles away from her (Y/N). 

“D-Does this mean that-”  
You started speaking again, and she glanced up at you, eyes squinted. “-That Zu-Zu and uncle Iroh are coming back?” She darkly chuckled, and it ripped through you as if she grated your flesh with sharp spears. “No.”   
You flinched - there was something sinister about her tone, but you nodded hesitantly. “R-right…”   
To see you startled of her - it delighted her, but it also caused her heart to feel somewhat troubled. Wasn’t this what she wanted? You were...you were supposed to fear her! She’s your superior, so this...this was right of you to do. She could destroy you with the click of her fingers - you should be afraid.   
But just like every time Azula had ever seen your face darken with frightened features, she felt as though they didn’t suit you.  
The look of fear in you was borderline arousing, at least it should have been - so why was it that she equally adored and despised that sorrowed expression on your (S/C) face?   
And, just like each time this happened, Azula felt the overwhelming, weak desperation to ‘fix’ it.   
“I mean,” She shrugged, staring dead into your sullen eyes, “They’d have to defeat and capture the Avatar first - a task I am certain won’t be easy, especially with Zhao out on the case. Besides, I’m not even sure if Zu-Zu and Iroh are aware of the Avatar’s existence, yet…”   
She felt relieved when the spark returned to your eyes but cursed herself for giving you enough power over her to make her feel so exposed around you.   
You made her weak, and she resented it.   
She would do anything for you. But knowing this revolted her. But she didn’t need you - if...if you someday decided to go running to stupid Zu-Zu, she wouldn’t even bat an eyelash because that would be your mistake, not hers.   
If you ever left her or betrayed her, she would make you regret it. 

“...But, if they do manage to accomplish that - then, maybe. Maybe, they could come back…’home’.” Her words weren’t honest, but lying was a tool to get to the goal, and she wasn’t one to sacrifice what she wanted for useless morals about how lying is ‘wrong’. Especially since this was nothing more than a little white lie.   
The chance of Zuko ever returning were slim-to-none, but if they gave you hope...well, then the lie was worth it.   
She hated the fact you were still thinking about him, the fact you held onto your hope for him, but she also couldn’t stand to see you so...depressed. It was off-putting and she knew that whatever happened in the future, you would have to eventually let Zuko go.   
Besides, whoever even said Zuko would survive an encounter with the Avatar? 

Azula smiled to herself, masking it as a smile of assurance when you looked at her. Grateful for her comfort, you reached for her hand and put it in your own, squeezing it tightly.   
Her hands were always so warm - so smooth. They were unnaturally smooth and tinted a shiny pastel pink as a result of her bending.   
You never really thought about logistics of firebending before you met her, as a child, but it made sense that someone with flames as hot as hers caused her hands to adapt to the heat and peel away to become more flame-resistant.   
She never really mentioned it, but from the times she would glance at them with uncertainty you realised long ago that they were a source of insecurity for her, so you always tried to let her know, in little ways, that her hands were your favourite thing about her.   
Being like this - just you and her, together..it felt right. It always did, and it never failed to make your heart race in your chest. No one else would ever be privy to witness her in any vulnerable state, but you. She would never admit these things - she was a woman of pride, but these things left unspoken spoke volumes.

Impulsively, you leaned in closer to her not even aware of what you were doing, your hand reaching out to brush some stray hairs out of her eyes, never once breaking eye-contact. Her breath hitched as she looked at you with flushed confusion, but didn’t protest against the closeness. You made her feel spiritually exposed and just so pathetically weak - she...she shouldn’t be just sitting there, idly, gaping at you - but how could she not, when she felt your soft skin on hers, and when she saw your affectionate smile aimed at her?   
When you were close, your sweet scent overcame her defences and made her legs shake, and her heart felt almost giddy - it was unsettling and vexatious, but she also couldn’t fight against it.  
She despised feeling like this but she relished moments spent with you.   
You were her personal little haven - not that you would ever fully understand how vital you were to her, and even she was in far too deep denial to acknowledge your importance in her life.  
Deep down she knew though, and she had always known it, but that didn’t make it any easier on her pride and fear of abandonment.   
Loving someone meant weakness, vulnerability, that Azula was not ready to accept. You could leave, and then she would be broken and alone and she couldn’t accept that as being a possibility. 

Your lips looked warm, soft and...inviting. She questioned if they tasted like cherries - and then panicked inside, trying to figure out why she was even considering the taste of your lips, and how warm they might be on her own, or how your gasping moans would sound if she was to strip you bare on her silk-covered bed and make you addicted to her touch-  
Sinful thoughts were nothing new for her, but she normally attempted to distract herself from them. But right now you were so close to her, she could feel your body warmth and if she wanted to, she could kiss you with such ease.   
Your lips mere centimetres away, holding in both your breaths as you swallowed thickly, stroking her cheek with her palm, admiring her beauteous excellence.   
Azula was so pretty…  
Heat flashed between your thighs, sounding a bang in your chest as you became painfully aware of how near you were.   
Surely close friends could be so...intimate, right? 

But you didn’t understand why filthy images kept popping up in your mind in more-than-friendly ways that drowned you in icy guilt, feeling as though thoughts such as these counted as a betrayal towards your vow to love no one else in the way in which you loved Zuko. These weren’t ‘new’ thoughts, either - you’d had similar ones before, but until now they were well-maintained. It felt as if bottled up desire burst within you.   
Eyelashes fluttering, your lips closer than ever, both of you anticipating something, neither knowing what you were waiting for - both craving and longing for the other.   
Just before you sealed yourself to her for eternity, you pulled away, wide-eyed and gasping. You’d almost kissed her.   
You nearly kissed the Princess, your dearest and most beloved friend, your everything. You almost ruined your friendship with reckless desire.  
“E-Excuse me, your highness,” You stuttered out, standing up and rushing back to your chambers, heat crawling over your body as the events played on repeat in your mind, over and over. 

Once in your bedroom, you locked the door behind you and gasped heavily, core begging for release. Guilt consumed you whole but you felt the passion between your thighs, and though thoughts of Zuko caused your soul to cry out, your body and mind pleaded for Azula’s touch.   
Futile attempts to think of something else helped not; your fingers, as if they had a mind of their own, trodded up your nightgown, up to your thighs, back against the door, legs weak. 

Azula looked so stunning tonight. So perfect, with her long black hair loose and neat, and her sharp eyes so bright and her lips so tender.

The softest moan escaped your lips and you gasped, feeling disgusted with yourself. You shouldn’t be doing this - she was your best friend, and these thoughts were poison.   
You...you told yourself the moment Zuko left that you’d crave no one else but him, but yet here you were, lusting after his sister no less…!   
Fingers stroking and caressing your folds, you closed your eyes and envisioned Azula. You prayed that she’d forgive you for your improper behaviour tonight in her chambers and that she would ignore the fact you had almost locked your lips with hers.

The sacred chant of her name filled your room as you gasped and mewled, bringing yourself closer to the edge, mind fixated only on Azula. Your Azula.   
Soon, you were a mess against the door, fingers sticky with your love juices as you slid down onto the floor, panting and trying to catch your breath. 

Desperately, you tried to contemplate about what just happened - about all the thoughts and feelings you’d been feeling this past year or so. Maybe...maybe this was just because you missed Zuko so much that you were projecting those feelings for him onto Azula?   
That...that would make sense, wouldn’t it?   
But...it felt wrong. It couldn’t be it - could it? But if that wasn’t it, what else could explain this desire, this need to be by her side, always?   
You weren’t - you couldn’t be - you loved Azula, of course, you did but you couldn’t be in love with her, could you…?  
How...how could that ever work? Firstly, you didn’t think it possible to be in love with both her and Zuko - the thought was awful. No, clearly this wasn’t that, either...it couldn’t be! You couldn’t be IN love with her - it...it was wrong!   
On so many levels...besides, you didn’t even think girls could be in love with other girls, could they? You’d never heard of that being the case before, and such acts were seen as unnatural in the Fire Nation. They weren’t permitted - they were wrong. Against nature.   
Gods and spirits above, what was wrong with you!? 

Sobs escaped you as your chest rose and fell in rhythm with them, tears gathered in your eyes but you did not allow them to fall down your cheeks.   
Still, you were distraught. What had you been thinking? Did you ruin your friendship with Azula because of this horrid mistake?   
Please, let Azula never comment on tonight’s events.

And Zuko, oh Gods, Zuko...he was out there, fighting against all odds to return. To return to you, to come home and here you were, doing...this!   
You did not deserve either of them. 

Zuko...he needed to come home. Once he was home, everything would be okay again! It had to be…  
You and Azula would be the best of friends - just friends - as you were meant to, and you would marry Zuko, the love of your life…  
But that all sounded like something out of a fairytale, and Fate proved to you that it was not about to give you a happily ever after.   
You didn’t even really deserve one, after all the horrid things you’d done. 

You felt like you were betraying both the people you loved the most and had no idea how to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading <3 Please leave a Kudos and Comment if you enjoyed!   
> I love hearing about what you're enjoying most about the series/chapter, how you like the characters, etc!


	7. Chapter Six: Winter Promises

Weeks passed and the banished exiles found themselves in the Earth Kingdom, searching for the Avatar and his friends.   
Each dawn brought new hope, each dusk brought despair. 

Three long years spent searching for the Avatar, and Zuko never hated it as much as he did, now.   
At least before the Avatar’s existence was confirmed, their journey held uncertainty - but it also gave Zuko hope for redemption at his father’s feet. It was a fool’s quest in the eyes of many, and as much as that upset him, he did not take into consideration the idea he’d be chasing the Avatar around after finding him, as well - especially since, now, if he was to fail...no! No, he wouldn’t fail.   
Zuko grit his teeth, clenching his fists.   
He wasn’t going to fail - not this time.   
Perhaps he had underestimated the Avatar and his friends in the past, and he should have been wiser - but...he was going to win one way or another. It was in Zuko’s nature to beat himself up for his unsuccessful attempt to capture the Avatar the first time he met him - he felt the terrible sting of defeat, and it had been haunting him ceaselessly since. All Zuko wished for with a vehement heart was to finally be allowed back home - but the only way to do that was if he channelled his desires and used them to take down the Avatar once and for all - and then, and only then, would his father restore his honour and Zuko would know, in his own heart, that he’d earned it instead of gotten it out of pity.   
He had committed a senseless mistake in his past and until he could prove that he was worth being a prince and future Firelord he could not - would not - rest. Not when he had his honour to recover from the abyss of fallen hopes and dreams.  
The Avatar thus far had been making a fool of him - Zuko was convinced. He was mocking him with these escapes and playing an absurd game of cat-and-mouse, and, in the eyes of the banished prince, it was the Avatar who was the obvious coward here. 

There was an ongoing war; the Fire Nation could not afford the Avatar’s return, not now of all times, that they were so close to attaining the power over all other inferior countries, kingdoms and tribes.  
And so, Zuko was determined to be the one to protect his Nation’s plans by capturing and imprisoning the Avatar, it was the only chance he had.   
To say he was desperate was an understatement - he...he just wanted to go home. To sit by the turtle-duck pond with (Y/N). To walk along the hallways of the Imperial Palace, to be able to go into the city in the Capital and smell the warm, familiar spice in the air like he used to when he was younger.  
The longer he was forced to be away from home, the more he found himself missing the smaller things from his life that had been unfairly stolen from him.   
But if he could be the one to foul the Avatar’s desire to get in the way of his father’s imminent plans to share the glory of their Nation with the whole world, then he could return home not only the redeemed prince but also as a glorious war hero. Eternally grand - he’d go down in history.   
These fantasies kept Zuko going until he could finally taste the rich flavour of victory on his lips. 

He turned to find his uncle, walking through the dusty, humid forest. 

As for the flavour of victory, Zuko had already tasted that sweet ambrosia once before.  
It was going to taste like you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cycle of the moon continued with each passing day; before long weeks had come and gone, and with them; new letters.   
At this point, you had several of them tucked safely away under your bed, hidden from the outside world. You loved them.   
Each and every single letter was treasured by you. You hadn’t realised the intensity of your yearning for Zuko until you began actively writing to one another - and now you were practically unable to stop thinking about him.   
But...Azula. Azula occupied a lot of your mind, these days, too. You withheld most information about you and Azula - Zuko didn’t...he didn’t have to know.   
It sickened you - you sickened yourself - the things you’d done. How your heart could beat for two people, you didn’t know but it threw you into complete hysteria at times, when you were all alone.   
You were truly despicable. 

The idea of continuing to live life without Zuko was enough to throw you into a storm of sorrow - but the thought of ever having to live a life without Azula broke you just as intently.  
It was as if they were both vital parts of you - and in a way, that was exactly the case.   
How could you choose between two people you loved the most?

You wanted everything to be good again.   
You wanted innocence back - those days where romance was in the background and everyone was just friends.   
But time can only move one way, as a stream to the ocean flows only downward.   
That would never be enough to stop you from dreaming, though. 

You knew your selfish desires were dangerous. Choices had to be made - strong, stable choices - but when had you ever made a good, solid choice without second-doubting yourself?   
Yes, you chose to stay with Azula - and it wasn’t something you regretted and you’d do it over and over again - but at the same time parts of you wished you had gone with Zuko.   
You would be with him, now, if you had - would kiss him and hold him and watch the moonlit sky with him each night.   
You realised, then, that you had an unhealthy tendency to romanticise the past - maybe a little too much for your own sanity’s sake.   
Wasn’t that normal, though? Fantasising something now gone, especially when one knew not whether they would ever have days like that again? 

Standing by your window, you stared out into the boundless heavens, awaiting the familiar sight of (H/N). you felt yourself bubbling with excitement as you stepped out of the way so that (H/N) could fly inside, their majestic wings carrying them far.   
“Little one!” You cheered, pecking their bird head and stroking their feathers softly. “There you are,” You noticed the almost saddened expression on (H/N)’s face, “What’s wrong, little one?” You asked, the bubble of excitement bursting harshly when you saw the lack of any letters tied to them.   
Desperately, you attempted not to panic - surely there was a perfectly viable explanation for this, right? You hoped so, at least…

There hadn’t been a letter for about a week, now. This was the second time this week (H/N) tried to fly to them and find them, only to return empty-clawed.   
The best you could pray for was that they were safe and sound and either in a place inaccessible to (H/N) or that they were too busy to respond, what with the Avatar out and about…you still were in total disbelief, even weeks after the alleged rumours - confirmed by Zuko in another letter - that the Avatar himself lived, still. 

It occurred to you, now that you had gotten so used to a semi-regular schedule for the letters, that having this schedule be broken was most upsetting. It felt like the end of the world as unstoppable thoughts of ‘what ifs’ claimed your mind.   
What if they were in a terrible storm and the ship sank?  
What if the Avatar had slain them?   
What if Zhao, himself, had stolen their lives from them?   
What if you had written something wrong and Zuko and Iroh both made the executive decision to burn the bridge between themselves and you?   
You wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. You certainly couldn’t blame them. If you had the choice to burn the bridge with yourself you’d do so in a heartbeat - had they finally acknowledged your existence for what it was - monstrous, evil, cruel?   
Did...did they finally see you in the filthy light you saw yourself through?   
No matter what you tried these thoughts refused to leave you be. 

Taking deep breaths to stop yourself from hyperventilating, you rationalised to yourself that everything would be okay. Everything would work out fine, in the long term. In another week, you would get a letter apologising for the late response but they had to focus on the task at hand; finding the Avatar.   
And everything would go back to the way it was.   
But, at this point, what even was ‘normalcy’, anymore? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Uncle! It's time to leave! Where are you? Uncle Iroh!” Zuko searched for his caretaker throughout these several years, frustrated that Iroh seemed to always go off somewhere without telling him. What if the Avatar decided to ambush his uncle and use him as leverage!? 

...Okay, maybe that was Zuko’s slight overreaction and overanalysis of the Avatar’s intentions, but he didn’t know what the Avatar was truly like - he looked like young, yes, but...well, for all Zuko was aware it may all just be a disguise. After all, it worked to make Zuko underestimate him the first time.   
Who knew what tactics the Avatar might use if given the chance!   
Zuko paused for a moment, thinking, “Hm…” He muttered to himself, maybe he should take one of the Avatar’s friends next time he saw them and use them for blackmail, instead? He groaned, they did already kind of try that the first time, but...this time it would be better handled.   
Perhaps if one of his friends was at stake - really at stake, this time around - the Avatar would agree to come with him - and yet, if Zuko was being honest with himself, at this point the idea of the Avatar going into captivity willingly wasn’t good enough.   
Zuko had suffered for what felt like an eternity, away from home, uselessly searching for the forsaken Avatar as his one string of hope to cling to - the only chance to prove himself. The concept of tricking the Airbender with wits and imprisoning him without a fight felt too lacklustre. Zuko needed to prove himself to himself - redeeming himself in the eyes of his father was the goal, but in order to feel truly worthy of regaining what was taken from him, he would have to redeem himself in his own eyes.   
The only way Zuko knew how to do that was to fight. Fight until he was strong. Fight until he was no longer a pathetic weakling and until he was worthy of the titles he’d been born with - fight the Avatar in an unforgettable, difficult but victorious battle. 

After all, luck never had been on his side.   
‘Azula was born lucky. You were lucky to BE born.’

“Over here!” Iroh’s voice called out, and Zuko was taken out of his thoughts as he headed towards where his uncle’s voice was stemming from - only to cringe when he saw the older man sitting in natural hot springs.   
What was the crazy old man doing now? Didn’t he realise how vital every second was? Every single minute could be one step closer to tracing the footsteps of the Avatar or finding a way to defeat him. He sucked a heavy breath in at the prospect of Commander Zhao discovering the Avatar’s whereabouts first - it was a shameful notion and Zuko had to ensure that he would be the only one in this competition to take the Avatar down.   
Zhao wasn’t going to steal the very thing that Zuko had spent a thousand sleepless nights trying to achieve.  
He wouldn’t let him.   
Never again was he going to allow anything he held dear to him to be stolen - but first, he had to finish the quest he spent forever attempting to fulfil so he could hold everything that had been once his in his arms again, and never let those things out of his sight, with (Y/N) being the priority of all the things he’d once owned.   
Though - ‘owned’ - felt...wrong. Zuko felt a sour taste in his mouth when the word fell into his mind, as though (Y/N) was nothing more than a pretty jewel or a toy for him - she wasn’t. She...she was his everything. To the point where on the hardest, bleakest days of his search in the past, it was the image of her in his mind that pushed him to keep going, to keep trying.   
‘I’ll wait for you!’  
Those words resonated inside of his head.   
He loved her, and he was going insane without her.

Glaring at his uncle, Zuko sighed, “Uncle? We need to move on. We're closing in on the Avatar's trail and I don't want to lose him,” He explained, his voice tired. He hadn’t slept in...heh, he couldn’t even remember.   
Noticing his dark circles, Iroh smiled fatherly and tried to persuade Zuko to rest, “You look tired, Prince Zuko. Why don't you join me in these hot springs and soak away your troubles?” It was an earnest suggestion - Iroh knew from experience that hot springs were the ideal medicine for weary nerves. Especially in the direst and stressful of times.   
Besides - Iroh was becoming increasingly worried about his nephew by the second. On one hand, the letters had been a good idea; having (Y/N) write to Zuko definitely improved the boy’s spirits tenfold, which was always pleasant to witness - Iroh enjoyed the boyish smile that his nephew would subconsciously make whenever he read her letters, sometimes four, even five, times over with equal excitement every time.  
On the other hand, it seemed to only further Zuko’s desperation. Iroh wanted to believe that they would accomplish the unlikely and they would return.  
He wanted to, but he couldn’t.   
It might’ve been the pessimism of old age, but Iroh knew his brother well. He knew, above all else, that the only way his brother would let Zuko come home was if the prince could once again serve him to his advantage.   
And Iroh also feared, above all other Earthly things, that this would result in Zuko’s untimely demise.   
He’d encouraged the letters with hopes of Zuko and (Y/N) retaining mutual closure, but he hadn’t considered what may be if sharing letters would only enhance their yearning and romanticised love. 

“My troubles cannot be soaked away. It's time to go!” The only thing that could rid Zuko of his troubles was the sweet success of having his greatness back.   
And the only way to attain victory was to get his uncle out of the forsaken hot spring and for them to keep moving!   
“You should take your teacher's advice and relax a little. The temperature's just right. I heated it myself.” Iroh then blew into the steaming waters, as always he hoped, wrongly, that it might just make his nephew laugh. It didn’t.  
He tried, constantly, to lighten the mood - he understood Zuko’s strife and his obsession with his honour, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to try everything in his power to lessen it and help his nephew see the smaller, better things in life.   
If...if his nephew did not cease this foolish pursuit for glory, it would end with his final breath being drawn in a tragic way.   
...just like it had been for his son. For a second, Iroh’s face faltered, but he kept his carefree mask on strongly, refusing to show his internal woe. Now was not the time to burden his already-burdened nephew with his own regrets. He should have never pushed his son so far, so deeply into attaining military distinction. Maybe, if Iroh had been a wiser man and better father, his beloved child would be here, still. 

“Enough! We need to leave now. Get out of the water!”   
Iroh clicked his tongue in disappointment and could only pray to the powers that be, that Zuko was retaining all his suggestions and life lessons somewhere hidden within his soul and that he would have a breakthrough of profound realisation in the future.   
But for the meanwhile, Iroh knew he was going to continue trying to get through his nephew’s blazing wall of hardened emotions and he wasn’t going to stop until he could at least shove a slither of wisdom through his honour-obsessed nephew’s head. 

“Very well,” Iroh nodded, standing up - Zuko groaned in disgust, shielding his eyes as though he just saw eldrich horrors - which from the prince’s point of view might’ve just as well been exactly that.  
“On second thought, why don't you take another few minutes?” Awkwardness oozed from his voice as he mellowed for a moment, grossed out and not wanting to see that ever again. Besides...maybe his uncle did deserve some relaxation. As much as Zuko couldn’t wait to get on the ship again and continue their mission to find the Avatar, he could admit that Iroh did an immense amount for him - even if a huge portion of the time his uncle was the most vexatious person to be around with his stupid remarks and badly-timed attempts at being funny.   
A break for his uncle wasn’t such a bad thing, once-in-a-while, but he didn’t want the older man to get used to being even lazier than he already was.

“But be back at the ship in a half-hour or I'm leaving without you!” He added, raising his voice in an effort to sound dictatorial, turning and heading back towards the ship, thoughts racing with battle strategies on how to fight the Airbender. He couldn’t let himself be distracted any more today. 

Smiling to himself, Iroh leaned back down into the warm waters, soothing his spirit with their healing properties.   
It was too bad that Zuko didn’t decide to join - he surely could’ve used it. 

Now that he was alone, however, he allowed his mask to slip, revealing the broken smile of a melancholic old man, overbrimming with regret from past blunders.  
If given a second chance, he knew he would have done many, many things differently. Been a better father, more supportive - been a better uncle to both his nephew and niece, the latter of whom he dreaded was beyond any salvation at all.   
Last he’d seen young Azula, she’d been so heavily indoctrinated with his brother’s beliefs that Iroh believed that try as he may in the future to solve her resolve, he knew he likely wouldn’t be able to.  
Hell, he was having enough difficulty with Zuko and sometimes worried that he’d never get through to him, either.  
But...he had to.  
For the only way, he could atone and forgive himself for his past, was to influence the future of the world in the best of ways; to influence his nephew’s future - to make him safe and to ensure he’d have a good life before Iroh’s time to pass to the spirit world would arrive.

But for now, the musky scent of the clay around him and cosy bubbling of the spring caused the once-general to drift into the sweetest of dreams. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The intricate doors of the throne room swung open to present the extravagant interior, in the centre of it all sat Firelord Ozai; the King of the chessboard.  
The Crown Princess entered, head held high as she gazed up at her father with ultimate respect.   
Kneeling down at his feet, she lowered her head of black hair, awaiting his permission for her to stand.   
“Azula.” His voice, though cold, was welcoming. “You may rise.” And so she did.   
“Father,” She responded, arms held behind her back in a straight, upright position one would expect from a glorious military leader more so than a Princess.   
“I called you here because there is a matter I wish to discuss.”   
Azula nodded, complacent as she assumed this to be about the war matter. “Yes, father?”  
Firelord Ozai thought for a moment, before standing up, tall and grand in his crimson-and-gold embroidered clothing, wearing the royal ornament in his hair with pride.   
“...Come with me, I want to speak privately in the meeting room.”   
“I…” She was confused, but only for a moment, “Is there an emergency war meeting?” She inquired, quickly following after him as the Firelord led his daughter through the many hallways and corridors of the Imperial Palace.   
He shook his head. “No. I wish to inform you of some plans, however, that would be beneficial for you to know.”   
Azula nodded, following her father into the ornate meeting room, empty apart from them.   
“Sit.”   
Without hesitation, Azula sat, admittedly quite nervous. It felt as though she was about to be severely punished for something. Had...had she done something wrong? Had she displeased her father or worse - dishonoured him, in some way?   
...had he discovered the way she felt about (Y/N) - Wait, that was impossible because she didn’t have feelings for (Y/N) - that was just her mind being ridiculous because such a thing wasn’t natural - nor was it something she even had to deal with because she did not have feelings for (Y/N).  
Still, anxiety remained. 

The Firelord took in a deep breath and walked over to the large world map stationed in front of the room, picking up a long pointer stick.   
“As you know, we’ve been trying to siege the walls of Ba Sing Se for a long time coming. I have decided that, as soon as (Y/N) is sufficient in her bending, we shall send her there as her...military debut.”   
This was far from new knowledge - it had been assumed for as long as (Y/N) had been at the Palace that, someday, she would be tasked with the inevitable destruction of Ba Sing Se’s great walls.  
“However, It has also come to my attention - from both General Li and even from your feedback, Azula,” He turned to face her with narrowed eyes that bore into her, keeping her in place, “That Li (Y/N) struggles with...morals.” Azula nodded her head, solemnly.   
Firelord Ozai tsked, “As such,” He continued with a smooth, firm tone, “I am tasking you - officially - to try and dissuade her foolish beliefs about ‘wrong’ and ‘right’.” The raven-haired man declared, glaring at his daughter, but then smirking.   
“I task you with this because I know how capable you with the art of persuasion. You have never disappointed me, Azula, and I know you shall not disappoint me with something as simple as this.”   
With self-satisfied enthusiasm, she smirked, flattered to have her father’s praise, oblivious to the subtle manipulation at hand.   
“Of course, father.” Her response was determined, immediate. “Once (Y/N) lets go of her hold on self-imposed morals, I know she can be - no, she will be - our greatest asset in this war.”   
Firelord Ozai seemed satisfied with his daughter’s obedience and response.   
She would someday make a good Firelord, but hardly as monumental as him  
Mostly because, once Sozin’s comet arrived in the summer, Ozai would be the almighty first-ever Phoenix King and the title of ‘Firelord’ will pale in comparison.  
Not to mention - Ozai knew very well of how close the two girls were - assigning ever-so-dutiful Azula to do his bidding ‘officially’ was the surest way to mould young Li (Y/N) into exactly what he wished for her to be; an unstoppable force - a weapon of ultimate destruction and consequently; victory.  
His daughter and the bloodbending novice would pave the path for his ascent into near godhood on this Earth. He, Ozai the Great, will go down in history as more than a monarch, but as a deity in his own right; worshipped for eternity.   
But first, all the puzzle pieces had to be in the right places for his schemes to succeed. 

Azula was the perfect offspring Ozai could’ve hoped for; she was a prodigy and powerful - nothing like her weakling of an older brother - and yet she was obedient, respectful of his superiority over her, which was perhaps even more important than strength; obedience.   
She was so desperate to please him that he could lead her whichever direction he required her to take without a moment’s hesitation from her.   
Ozai liked to believe he’d been a good father to Azula.   
Zuko, he’d tried to be a patient father for, but the boy had failed him exceedingly.   
Not to mention the vague uncertainty of whether Zuko was even truly his son. At the thought of the cursed letter written by Ursa for her family and ex-lover, that he’d uncovered, his blood boiled. 

“There is, however, another pressing matter. “ Ozai added, smirking to himself, staring up at the map. His plans for the future were grand, and he held no reservation that anything could ever go wrong. Despite Commander Zhao’s claims regarding the Avatar, such a thing was only rumoured, and the possibility of such a thing was slim to none.   
“I made the judgment that enough time has now passed since her finance’s exile, that it is high time for new...arrangements to be made for (Y/N).”   
Azula felt insects crawl inside her throat.   
Ozai’s use of “(Y/N)’s fiance” did not go unnoticed by Azula, and it normally would have made her feel better to hear Ozai distance himself further from his relationship with his son.   
However, the implications were shocking, though even Azula realised they shouldn’t be.   
This had been in the making ever since Zuko’s exile, and yet it tore through her skin to hear.  
“Arrangements?”  
Ozai smugly confirmed, “Yes, Azula. Wedding arrangements.” 

Wrath seeped into her, steaming silently like one of Uncle Iroh’s teas. The words that left her father’s mouth made Azula want to cry out in disapproval, an almost primal desire to keep (Y/N) entirely to herself building within her.   
Storms gathered within Azula’s eyes and she had to clench her fists, pressing her sharp, manicured nails into the skin of her shiny palms, drawing blood.   
The reaction did not surprise Ozai, who had honestly expected something more...explosive. It seemed both his children had inherited his temper - sometimes Azula would forget her place, as obedient as she usually was.   
“I see,” Azula choked out, striving to seem as unbothered, “Have you thought about her...potential matches?”  
She felt sick at the prospect of (Y/N) getting married. It just wasn’t something that her childhood friend was meant for - she was supposed to be by her side, and how was that supposed to happen if she was married to some man chosen by her father?  
“I have not made an executive decision as to that, yet.”  
Limited relief settled itself into her heart, but not for long. Dark thoughts were abundant in her psyche, and she could just imagine herself burning everyone who tried to take her (Y/N) away from her.   
Even if it was her father’s will - Azula felt hesitant to let this be, the desire to argue held back by a thin thread of respect and fear for Ozai.   
“...” For several stretched-out moments, the firebending princess spoke not. She could not bear to, in fear of snapping at the man she feared more than anyone else on this planet.   
Fear was the heart of love, after all.   
Love without fear was like the night sky without stars. Bland. Weak. Pathetic. 

For a second, Azula couldn’t help but wonder whether the fear of losing someone counted as love, but just as fast as the thought arrived, it was expelled from her active mind.   
Unable to restrain herself, Azula blurted out, frustrated, “(Y/N) shouldn’t get married!”   
Silence. Terror.   
Ozai stared her down, eyes full of warning, but she was not Zuko, who backed down and fell onto his knees in fear the moment he made a mistake. Unlike that failure, Azula was strong and stood by her views. “I mean -” She cleared her throat, but stared her father down with boldness, “If you bother her with potential engagements at this moment in time, it’ll be detrimental to her training. It’ll distract her, surely.” She laced her words with diplomacy, though internally she was screaming these words.  
“Romance, at such a crucial time, would only serve to distract her…!” silently, Azula cursed herself for the single note of urgency in the sentence.   
Ozai raised an eyebrow, inhaling crossly, but gave a single nod of his head. “...Very well.” he agreed, “For the meantime, I will postpone these plans.” He allowed so-graciously, “Since you think it so ‘detrimental’ to our plans.”   
She tried her best not to flinch under his harsh gaze.   
“Thank you, father.”   
“You may leave.” He turned his back to her and continued to observe the map. 

Azula bowed and walked out of the room, shutting it behind her, and then biting down on her tongue, walking down the hallways - only to hiss and blast a pillar with her flames, turning it an ashy black.   
A heavy grunt escaped her lips as she made her way to the training grounds.   
She needed to blow a hole in something. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Years of being a military general meant Iroh had the sharpest reflexes, even now. Startled awake by strange noises, he looked around like a ferocious tiger, woken from slumber by unwise prey.  
“Whos’ there!?” He cried out, growling with narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows, ready to fight even in the vulnerable state of nudity.   
He expected an ambush, perhaps, but instead, there was only the cutest meadow vole. Iroh sighed in relief, picking the precious little creature in his palm, cooing at him. “A meadow vole! I should have known,” He smiled as he stroked the fur. He always loved animals, but it only had been after the turnabout in his life that he’d fully realised the beauty of life.  
All creatures were beautiful. All life was sacred.   
Sorrow ran through him like a tiny river to the ocean, encasing him in ice.   
If only, he lamented wordlessly, he could’ve appreciated that sooner. 

“It seems I dozed off and missed by nephew’s deadline, but it was a very sweet nap.” Indeed, he had dreamt of his son. Most of his dreams, it seemed, revolved around the family he should have had, but lost.   
It was his personal paradise and nightmare in one. But any chance to lay his eyes upon his dead son’s visage once more was a chance he would take, if only in his dreams.  
In his hands, the little vole leapt up and down - how adorable! At least it was until the ground itself shook violently, causing Iroh to gasp and drop the little creature, which scurried off to safety as the ground moved towards him and the earth around him encased him in place as Earth Kingdom soldiers came out from hiding.   
Oh goodness, this was going to be troublesome.   
He hoped his nephew wouldn’t mind having to come back for him. Iroh knew Zuko wouldn’t have gone off without him there - his nephew was many things, but despite his threats about leaving Iroh behind, anyone could tell it was a bluff.   
But now, Iroh was really hoping this one time he wasn’t wrong. 

A soldier picked up his clothing, much to Iroh’s dismay, rolling his eyes.   
“He's a Fire Nation soldier.”   
Iroh glanced at the man who appeared to be the general - or, rather, maybe a captain? Either way, he appeared to be their leader, “He's no ordinary soldier. This is the Fire Lord's brother, the Dragon of the West. The once-great General Iroh, but now, he's our prisoner.”   
Iroh glared at the men surrounding him.   
His nephew was going to be furious with him for not having been careful and lowering his guard so much, and for once, Iroh felt like he deserved to be yelled at and scolded by Zuko for being indiscreet enough to nap in the open. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Uncle! Uncle, where are you?” Distress didn’t begin to describe the storm of emotions rippling in Zuko as he and two other soldiers searched for his missing uncle.   
His uncle had a tendency to walk off and do his own thing, but this was far too out of character for him, especially after Zuko’s insistence he comes to the ship as soon as possible. Initially, Zuko believed his uncle had fallen asleep or something equally as stupid and wasted time due to that, expecting to discover his uncle passed out in the hot spring or nearby drying off - but they found not a trace of Iroh.  
He couldn’t show his concern too vividly - that implied weakness - but that didn’t mean worry wasn’t tearing him apart. His uncle was all he had in the world - at least right now and for the past three years. Like it or not, Zuko disliked the idea of harm befalling the man, who was his only family for years of banishment.   
He willingly came to exile with him.   
Zuko owed it to him to ensure his safety. 

“Sir, maybe he thought you left without him.” 

The suggestion wasn’t too absurd, except for the fact that Zuko knew his uncle well enough to know he knew that they wouldn’t have left him there.   
“Something's not right here. That pile of rocks.” If being exiled taught him anything, it was to always be observant and on the lookout for anything that seemed or felt ‘wrong’.   
“It looks like there's been a landslide, sir.”   
“Land doesn't slide uphill. Those rocks didn't move naturally.” Zuko noted as he crouched down, touching the rockpile with his hand, focusing his eyes as he tried to figure out what happened to his uncle.   
When the puzzle pieces linked together, he stood up straight, horrified, “My Uncle’s been captured by Earthbenders…!” His exclamation caused alert within the soldiers - if Prince Zuko’s hypothesis was correct, then this was a terrible incident. 

Panic consumed Zuko, and he felt glaciers of worry transform into molten lava of pure rage. Someone kidnapped his uncle and thought they could get away with it…!   
What...what if the Avatar had been behind this!? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where are you taking me?” The question posed by Iroh was simple, he didn’t even seem remotely afraid and treated the situation as though it were a simple annoyance.   
At the very least, the sound of ostrich-horse feet on gravel was rather comforting.   
“We're taking you to face justice.” The soldiers responded with pompous self-righteousness. Iroh supposed that the situation ought to disturb him and spark fright in him, but instead it felt like a long-awaited thing that should’ve happened long ago.   
Iroh never truly spoke about his emotions - they were for him to deal with, and him alone. But deep inside in the cavern of his psyche he always felt he should have been punished for his wrongdoings and the part he took in this immoral, cruel war.   
And if he did not have the responsibility to care for his nephew, he would have likely allowed himself to be taken straight to captivity and punished without as much as a peep of protest.   
But that would be selfish of him to do, when he still owed much more to Zuko than he had given and until Iroh was satisfied with the knowledge he’s done everything possible for Zuko, he couldn’t rest on his mission to help open his nephew’s eyes to the truth.   
“Right, but where, specifically?”   
“A place you're quite familiar with, actually. You once laid siege to it for 600 days, but it would not yield to you.”   
The words hit Iroh like a tsunami of repulsive recollections of the man he once was. The man he’s tried so hard to never be again.   
“Ah, the great city of Ba Sing Se.” His voice wavered not; he learnt in his life to never show weakness to the enemy - one of the few useful skills Firelord Azulon had taught him.   
Ba Sing Se.   
The greatest city of the Earth Kingdom, that brought back countless retrospections. So many things he could have done differently - for example; never having wasted and risked all those soldiers’ lives, never having seized Earth Kingdom villages and had men and women slain in cold blood by his own command.   
But those regrets were buried deep and his to deal with. 

“It was greater than you were, apparently.”  
The remark bothered Iroh, more than he wished it would. The soldier wasn’t wrong; and yet there was the remaining sense of past pride that remained inside of him that try as he may, Iroh knew he would never fully rid of.   
One could say about him what they will, but in his prime, he was one of the greatest military leaders in Fire nation history, his achievements already taught in Fire Nation’s schools.   
It was certainly nothing for him to be proud of, but there was still that seedling of indoctrination within him that pushed him to feel defensive of his past glory.   
“I acknowledge my defeat at Ba Sing Se. After 600 days away from home, my men were tired, and I was tired.” It was a terribly whiny tone - but equally, it was his defence of the defeat that destroyed his career - but likewise made him turn a new, better leaf.   
Thinking fast, he yawned, smirking to himself and muttered, “I’m still tired,” before falling off the ostrich-horse onto the ground, kicking off one of his sandals in a subtle manner.

Frustrated, the soldiers pulled him up and placed him back on the horse, carrying onwards.   
Iroh smirked to himself when they couldn’t see his face, watching the sandal become smaller as they rode away from it.   
He was tactical - he knew that he could not waste energy trying to escape the guards in such an earth-abundant terrain, so this was the best next thing. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Endlessly trudging through the muddy forest, Zuko looked about frantically with each step, as to not miss a single clue.   
He could only hope with a burdened heart that his uncle hadn’t been harmed - at least not too severely - by these barbaric Eartbenders.   
Growing up, Zuko had heard tales of the Earthbenders - and Waterbenders - as bitter barbarians, unable to accept the glorious progress the Fire Nation was sharing and spreading to the world. Now, more than ever, he knew those tales to be the truth.   
These detestable brutes kidnapped his uncle who, though an undisputable fool at times, was also one of the greatest firebenders of his time. He remembered hearing much talk in the Palace from both his grandfather and father, comments about the ‘ungrateful Earth Kingdom’, and now he saw that they truly were despicable people.   
For a moment, Zuko faltered in his thoughts - was this just his own anguish and the fear for his uncle talking? - But he decided that, no, it couldn’t be; everyone in the Fire Nation held this view of the Earthbenders, and so it must be right. 

On the beaten path, he noticed a discarded sandal and raised an eyebrow, walking over to it. He crouched down, immediately regretting getting too close and backing away. The pungent odour was revolting.   
It was uncle Iroh’s, alright.   
Zuko knew, at the very least, that he was heading in the right direction.   
‘Hold tight, uncle, I’ll be there soon.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cut to a mountain the Earthbenders are leading Iroh through. Iroh looks at the skies and notices the dragon and Aang. He gasps in wonder.

The harsh landscape of mountainous, dusty terrain made Iroh begin to feel moderately anxious about whether his nephew was going to find him.   
There was always the possibility that Zuko had gone on, without him, and that he was really going to be taken to Ba Sing Se a prisoner.   
An idea that the boy who he viewed as a son of his own might’ve abandoned him stung worse than a bite of a scorpion, but it was something he simply accepted - if it was the case.   
Still, Iroh held faith in Zuko; he trusted that his nephew cared about him enough to not leave him here, alone.  
...even if Zuko had left without him - Iroh knew he had to fulfil his responsibility, the most vital task of his life; saving his nephew from himself.   
And so, even if stranded on this Earth Kingdom Island, Iroh had to find a way out of the situation and return to Zuko.   
He wasn’t going to give up on him. 

A strange shadow on the dusty path prompted Iroh to glance up at the azure canvas of the skies, releasing a gentle gasp from his throat at the sight. It was...it was the Avatar! On a dragon, no less, speeding past them.   
“What's the problem?”   
Iroh’s shock was far gone, but he reminded himself that most could not see spirits as he could, so he concealed it to the best of his ability.   
“Nothing.” His response was rushed, immediate; the type of response brought about by one’s panic response.   
After half a moment, he added, “Actually, there is a bit of a problem.” The idea was, perhaps, a little crazy - but what did he have to lose? And now that he knew the Avatar was here…  
“My old joints are sore and aching, and these shackles are too loose.”  
The confusion on the Earthbending Captain’s face was more than slightly vivid.   
“Too loose?”   
In a different circumstance, Iroh would have fallen on the floor with laughter from how comedic the expression on the man’s face was. But he had to contain himself, for now. The situation was dire enough.   
“That's right. The cuffs move and jangle around and bump my wrists. It would help me if you tighten them so they wouldn't shake around so much.” His plea was unlike any other any of the men had ever heard; a prisoner begging for tighter restraints…  
After a moment of consideration, the Captain sighed, giving in to the old man’s wants. “Very well. Corporal, tighten the prisoner's handcuffs.”  
Fools.  
Iroh almost felt bad for tricking them like this - it was a little rude of him, but hey - what else could he do? 

He needed to be set free. 

All the men stopped, ostrich-horses came to a halt as the corporal dismounted and made his way to the older man, unaware of the ex-general’s intentions, placing his hands on the metal cuff with the purpose of tightening it, only to screech like a beast damned, hotness destroying the nerves in his palm. Curses and laments fell from the man’s lips as Iroh jumped free, blasting flames wherever he could as a way to defend himself and keep the soldiers all at bay - he did not wish to harm them severely, and apart from a wounded hand, the man wouldn’t suffer too intensely.   
Years of being in the military taught him many things, but one of those things was knowing how much pain to induce into someone without harming them permanently.   
Thinking fast, he rolled down the hill, groaning loudly as he did, getting away in a less-than-practical way, but if it worked, it worked. 

The last he saw of the men was them wildly attempting to settle their panicked horses.   
He smirked to himself and rolled away.   
The man’s smugness did not last long, however, as soon he was hit with excessive force with a rockslide. Damn.   
He groaned, scraped and slightly wounded, continuing to roll down as the soldiers tried to chase him.   
“He's too dangerous, Captain! We just can't just carry him to the Capital! We have to do something now!”   
The soldier’s calls were urgent, afraid. As if something as pathetic as Iroh’s failed escape attempt somehow placed them all in grave danger of the Dragon’s rage.   
His reputation proceeded him.   
“I agree. He must be dealt with immediately and severely.”

Iroh, battered and bruised, spit out the earthy stone that had resided inside his mouth, the aftertaste murky and muddy.   
This...was not good.   
His escape skills, it seemed, were a little rusty. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Surrounded by soldiers, Iroh dejectedly prepared for his punishment. Maybe he deserved this - no, he knew that he did. This was karma, certainly, returning to hit him harshly after years of destruction and suffering which he caused.   
“These dangerous hands must be crushed.” The Captain declared, his voice pouring over Iroh like the most deadly acid rain. The captured firebender laid with his hands chained to a stone slab, silently accepting his fate.  
He sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes as the captain raised a massive boulder into the air, letting it plummet to smash Iroh’s hands, but the moment never came. Instead, Iroh felt the wind of movement in front of him, opening his eyes to see his saviour - Prince Zuko himself.   
Pride for the boy swelled within Iroh’s heart.   
After kicking the rock away, he shattered the chains keeping his uncle’s hands tied together with his boot - movement fluid and exquisite.  
The joy that cut through Iroh made him want to cry tears of utmost glee. Zuko had returned for him.   
“Excellent form, Prince Zuko.”   
“You taught me well.”   
If the situation was different, Iroh would’ve hugged the life out of his nephew. And, after this was done, he probably would. 

“Surrender yourselves. It's five against two. You're clearly outnumbered.” The Captain’s command was a misfired attempt at intimidation.  
“Yeah, that's true, but you are clearly outmatched.” With his nephew by his side, Iroh had no lack of faith that they would get out of this scrape alive and well. 

Countless rocks fired at the duo, blasting through the air. Iroh moved swiftly, shattering them with the very chains that had been intended to weaken him. A mark of a brilliant general was resourcefulness in tough situations.   
He watched on with earned respect as his nephew utilised the skills he’d taught him, blasting away two soldiers with ease.   
So his nephew did listen to him, it seemed. Iroh was getting through to him - if only a little - and for now, this was enough for him. 

Discerning a stone soaring towards Zuko, Iroh clenched his jaw - no one was going to harm his son - his nephew - if he could help it!   
With all his strength, Iroh caught the stone in his hands, ignoring the stinging of the impact, throwing it back towards the soldiers that had been shallow enough to underestimate their rivals.   
The first lesson of being in a war; never undervalue one’s enemy.   
Zuko turned and dodged three sharp rocks thrown his way with impressive grace, glaring at the Captain as their eyes met. In retaliation, an inferno of heat blows the man’s way, which he successfully avoided by a landslide.   
Hissing in rage, the Earthbender raised a mass of earthy debris enough to crush them beneath it - but Iroh made a promise to protect Zuko no matter what, and it would be a promise he kept, no matter what.   
Swinging his chains with surprising precision, he knocked the Captain down where he stood, distracting him from his bending. 

Zuko flinched when he heard the cracking and snapping of bones and screams of the wounded soldiers, trapped under their own debris. He stared on with wide, bitter eyes as they groaned and wept. Pathetic.   
But still, the sight was...bloody and brought him little satisfaction.   
“They’ll be fine,” Iroh stated, turning to his nephew with saddened eyes. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but they’d given them no choice this time around.   
Add it to his list of wrongs.   
“There’s a village near here. Someone will find them and get them out.” It was a lie - he couldn’t be certain that they would survive, but it was something he, himself, was praying for. Regardless, if this lie would help his nephew sleep at night, he would tell it over and over again.   
Iroh’s assurance swept through Zuko, who looked far more relieved.   
Fortunately, the men seemed to just have a few broken bones, bruises and cuts - from what they could tell, there were no life-threatening cases in front of them. 

Just to be sure, though, Iroh made the mental note to find a village nearby, if they could, and make the village somewhat alert.   
He didn’t want any more deaths on his hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back at the ship, Zuko sat at his desk with a brush in hand, writing yet another yearning letter to (Y/N).   
He never was the best at conveying how he felt - about anything - but he did find it was easier done with the art of writing.   
It felt like aeons since he last laid eyes upon her; since he last held her in his arms and stroked her cheek and lovingly kissed her.   
Three years was a catastrophically long time; he wondered how she changed, how she looked - but most importantly; how she felt about him, now.   
He was too afraid to ask straight-on, too afraid to lose contact with her for a second time if he wrote anything out-of-line.   
He just...didn’t know where he stood in her life, anymore, and didn’t know how to convey the fact that in his life, she was still his one northern star in the endless, vast horizon of the oceans he was forced to sail.  
She’s the Northern star that will guide him home. The brightest of them all.   
But how does one convey such a thing after three years of separation? So, instead, he just wrote of his travels, his plights, and even fights. He wrote to her about the Avatar’s existence - mostly after she herself wrote a letter questioning whether he found him, explaining that Commander Zhao had sent word to Firelord Ozai, but the latter of whom was still more than a little doubtful, believing that Sozin had successfully wiped out the Avatar a century ago.   
He wrote narratives, in order to stop himself from writing half his heart out. And she did the same, for a while. Her letters explained things that happened at court while they were away, about her own training, about her mother, father and the terrible fears that dwelled inside of her like shadows hiding from the pure light.   
He noted that in some letters, dried teardrops were prevalent on the paper - this was something that broke his heart into pieces at the prospect. 

If only he could have her here, by his side, he would hold her and never let her go. Never let anyone hurt her again.   
Not her mother, or her father or even...even the Firelord.   
She was...she was his star in the sky, his reason for living - reason to keep going - and he would do everything, absolutely everything, for her happiness. His heart strained with longing. He wanted to be the thing that made her content in her life - the idea that it could be anyone else maddened him enough for the room to become heated, and he had to steady himself with breathing exercises, reminding himself that everything would be perfect once again the moment he returned to the Avatar, captured, bruised and bound.  
She would run into his arms, tripping over herself - and he would catch her and raise her high into the sky, spinning her around and around and then he’d place her feet on the ground and she would wrap her arms around his neck and - mortified of his vivid imagination, he cleared his throat, the crimson blush that coated his cheeks revealing his internal embarrassment. Perhaps he was getting a little ahead of himself. 

Still...could anyone blame him?   
Three years at sea gave plenty of time for thinking and dreaming. Zuko fancied himself a realist; he liked to believe he was a man of logic, not of emotion.   
Anyone who knew Zuko, however, knew that he was the exact opposite. Everything the exiled Prince did was related to his feelings, logic possessing no home in his mind.   
He missed (Y/N), and his mother. He missed his father, too, though somewhere subconsciously tucked away deep inside, he resented the man with an exceptional fury that Zuko himself was unaware slept dormant within.   
Hell, he even missed his demon of a sister. When Azula entered his mind, Zuko shuddered. That brat made his entire young life hellish - from being father’s favourite to pushing him into ponds and constantly getting him into trouble to her clinging to his fiancee - His - all her life, always vying for her attention, as if she wasn’t evil incarnate. 

...but she was still his sister. His wrist tensed and he had to put the brush down, heart pulsating.   
Zuko rarely thought about Azula at all, these days; he found it’s better that way. His rage cannot control him if the thing that made him most rageful isn’t focused on.   
Except, nowadays when he did think of her, Zuko felt a frustrated regret. It was subtle, and he very much hated that horrid girl, but...a part of him remembered a time, when he and Azula were still so-very-young and, dare he even recall, friendly.   
Before either of them were old enough to begin their rivalry, they’d been just...a brother and a sister.   
But now...now his sister was a competitor. Someone who he had to beat for his right to exist - he was the firstborn, and yet she was the prodigy. He was engaged, and yet, somehow, he was cast aside and forced away from the love of his life whilst Azula got to keep his (Y/N) by her side. 

Regret turned into wrath.   
Clenching his fists, he stared down at the letter on his desk. Thoughts of (Y/N) soothed him, greatly.   
She...was writing to him. She missed him. She’d written so, herself.   
So that must mean she loved him, still? Just as he did, her?   
Zuko was determined to drink from the chalice of victory, and then he would have everything he was born to possess. He would be worthy, and then nothing on this Earth would be able to stop him.   
Not Azula, not his father - not anyone.   
And (Y/N) would be by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a kudos and comment <3 What do you guys think so far? Who are you rooting for? What do you think of all the characters?)


	8. Chapter Seven: Grave Reminders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited. Might have some mistakes.   
> Thank you for reading!   
> 19 pages long.

Winter had come, and now, winter was almost at its peak. The Winter Solstice was closer than it’s ever felt.

The race to capture the Avatar was on. 

With Iroh’s capture - and the need to save him from it - they had lost valuable searching time, and now Zuko felt the rising bile of panic well inside the pits of his stomach.   
He was always so confident about his success because he had to be. There was simply no other choice - any reluctance or weakness will result in his instant failure and he couldn’t handle that.   
But with every day that passed, Zuko found himself doubting himself increasingly.   
Could he truly beat Zhao in this race of time? This race for glory, for honour and for everything he’d lost?   
Would he ever get to see (Y/N) again, or would he be forced to spend eternity haunted by her visage from only his memories? 

Finally, they were reaching Senlin village, sailing through the seas. He could only hope that the Avatar would be here - his travelling patterns were genius, difficult to decipher.   
Taking a deep breath, Zuko prepared himself to descend onto the land with his uncle, ready to cause havoc and chaos if that’s what it took to seize his prize.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“Are you even listening to me?”   
“Huh?” You blinked, snapping out of your daze and looking straight up at Azula, who sat elegantly beside you with her arms crossed and eyes narrowed.   
You blushed and cleared your throat, embarrassed. “Uh, of course -” You lied, terribly, “I just...have a lot on my mind, today.”   
Azula said nothing, the silence spoke enough to bring you on your knees.   
“Azula?”  
You feared you had upset her.   
It was a little too easy to enrage her, sometimes, and you worried that’s what had happened - you cursed yourself for not paying her enough attention.   
You...needed to be better. A better friend. 

You were having breakfast together again, as you regularly did. But you thought too much and had too loose a grip on reality to stay tethered and grounded for longer than moments.   
Sometimes, you felt as if you were a ghost, watching your own life through someone else’s eyes.   
Azula shook her head and rolled her eyes, “Ditzy as always, I see.” her remark felt a little too bitter to suit her.   
Placing both hands on your lap, you wanted to make yourself as small as possible. “I’m sorry…”  
She glanced over at you with what you mistook to be pity. “Don’t be. It’s whatever, anyways.” She tried to be assuring but you could tell it bothered her whenever you weren’t mentally present. These mornings were important to you both and you chastised yourself for not being here emotionally like she needed you to be.   
But you also couldn’t force it - you didn’t know how to. 

Azula stared at you for a moment, a strange, unreadable expression on her face. It felt...wrong, somehow. 

The Princess had decided to not inform you about the plans the Firelord had for you. Partly to shield you - but partly due to her own inability to process it.   
She knew that, at most, she’d only brought you (and her) a handful of time until you would be inevitably re-engaged with yet another worthless man - a nobleman or great military general, no doubt - and that knowledge made her feel a new kind of unease she’d only ever felt before Zuko’s banishment, and even then it’d been slight.   
It was a strange emotion, one she loathed because she didn’t like how it made her feel.  
She didn’t want you to leave her.   
She...wanted you to just remain by her side, and how could you ever do that if you got married off, taken away from her?   
She couldn’t handle that.   
Azula couldn’t even admit it to herself, but it was the truth she knew. At her core, she was terrified of losing you, but the self-realisation had been slowly sinking in for years now, and only now was she beginning to accept it - and even still, it was taking an eternity in itself because she despised the fact she felt so attached.   
She should have never been so attached, to you. 

Her mind drifted, she didn’t want to dwell on her meeting with her father anymore - she needed a distraction. You were a perfect distraction.   
“...Having said that, you should focus on being more grounded. I think that’s what holds you back from unlocking your full abilities. Thinking.”   
You looked up at her, surprised but nodding in agreement. You knew she was right. Azula was always right.   
“Do your breathing exercises with me.” She suddenly stated, and you know it wasn’t a suggestion, but a demand. You stood from your seat and walked over with her onto the dewy morning grass, the sun on its way onto the sky.   
You sat with crossed legs, opposite one another. This was nothing new, except...it felt like it was. Things had been changing - there was a different atmosphere between you both these days. It was as though your past friendship was slipping through your fingers like sand at a beach, and you didn’t know how to revert it to its old ways. It felt so much more...intimate, now.   
It made you feel disgusted with yourself and guilty.   
Memories of what you’d done a few nights ago haunted you - how could you be so...so lustful, as to do something like that whilst thinking of her?   
How could you have almost kissed her?   
What was wrong with you? 

You were afraid of things that once seemed normal. Being this close to her felt too raw - too dangerous. Distracting. She smelled of cinnamon and impossible dreams. 

Still, you closed your eyes and so did she, sitting side-by-side as you breathed along with her, in and out, in and out - just like you used to in your youth.   
It was nice to do this together with her, again, instead of doing it alone in your bedroom. 

At one point, she intertwined her hand with yours. You smiled, heart beating softly in your chest cavity. Her hands were rough and smooth at once and you could imagine that textured skin on your flesh-  
You opened your eyes, holding back a gasp. She still had hers closed.   
Dear Gods above, what was wrong with you? Why couldn’t you just be normal? You didn’t understand what was happening. She’d always been your best friend, your beloved, dearest friend whom you treasured above all else.  
So why were you thinking such horrid thoughts?   
If she knew the things that went on in your mind, she would surely hate you. You hated yourself for these things.   
That night played on repeat in your mind, how foolish could you have been? How stupid, stupid, stupid! The night’s allure had clearly influenced you, and you almost…  
Your breathing out was shaky and tears welled in your eyes but you wouldn’t cry anymore. You’d promised to yourself you would stop being such a forsaken crybaby.   
Azula was always right.  
Always.   
You had to be stronger - better - tougher and wiser. Just a little bit could take you a long way.   
Azula furrowed her eyebrows and opened her eyes, staring at you. “Are you, like...okay?” She asked, concerned, but trying to mask the concern by lacing her voice with indifference.  
It never worked, with you; try as she may you knew her a little too well to be tricked so easily.  
You knew her.   
And she knew you.  
Except now you cursed it because you knew that she was able to call your bluffs.   
She knew when something was wrong.   
And something was wrong; you were wrong - your emotions, thoughts - they were all corrupt and foul and shameful.   
Things that no girl should ever dare consider - things of an unnatural nature that made no sense.   
Girls couldn’t like girls.   
It was against humanity’s laws of life itself - it never happened before as far as you knew, and so it was unknown and made you feel nauseated to consider.  
“Y-Yes. I’m sorry,” You let out a nervous laugh, “Let’s continue?”   
Azula was about to push the conversation but relented, nodding. “Hm...okay. But like, these aren’t even that hard - they’re just basic breathing exercises, (N/N [Nickname]). You can do better - don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to do something this simple.”   
Her remarks weren’t painful if anything they were familiar and appreciated by you. Typical Azula.  
You cast your thoughts aside for now - telling yourself that it was useless to dwell on them since they would have to fade eventually. They were intrusive thoughts, not thoughts of your own.   
For now, all that mattered was Azula, and spending time with her.   
You didn’t know what the future held for you.   
Which was why you didn’t know how much time you would have with her. For all you knew, she could be taken away from you just as easily as Zuko had been.   
And right now, right here, she was the only person who cared about you. The only one you had in the whole wide world because Zuko wasn’t here. You wanted him to be, so badly but...he wasn’t.  
And you didn’t know if you’d ever see him again and Azula...was your everything.  
She always had been.   
You spent too much time in the past, not enough in your present, and it occurred to you that you might be living on borrowed time, with her.  
And if that was the case, you needed to enjoy every moment with her to its fullest, lest you eternally regret it.   
Your own thoughts and feelings and fears - they could wait. You could deal with them alone in the sullen safety of your own room.   
But you had to focus on time spent with her.   
Because if you didn’t, you might lose her, and if you lost her you would die. You knew that you would.   
Without Azula, there was no ‘you’.  
You existed for her.

So you held her hands, and you tightened your grip and breathed in harmony with her, feeling worries fading away if for the moment because she was here.  
She was here.  
And you weren’t alone.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Getting off the ship, Zuko traversed into the village. He had a feeling about this place - a good, fortunate feeling that this had been a place the Avatar had been at.  
The eaves of night concealed him and his uncle from sight as he stood like a silent shadow and waited for the Senlin elder.   
The moment the old man walked out his home, Zuko ambushed him as Iroh sat idle on a rhino. The man’s dreadful gasp sparked amusement within the sadistic seedlings inside of Zuko’s heart, he smirked and roughly shoved the man through his own front door, “Have trouble sleeping?” He mocked, knowingly.   
His intuition was getting better. He was beginning to get good at finding the Avatar. He supposed that spending what felt like an aeon searching for him honed his senses.   
“Seen the Avatar, lately?”

The man was in despair, softly pleading for his old life. Was this what Zuko had looked like to his own father, that fateful day?   
Refusing to stand up for himself and fight like a man?   
If so...he couldn’t blame him for banishing him. This was disgustingly pathetic and horrid of a sight. 

But it ignited a flame of horrid excitement. 

Despite this, a part of him screamed out against harming the man further. It seemed his own morals always got in his way.   
But even still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t at the very least scare the man into oblivion. After all...if he was to have a heart attack, that surely wouldn’t be his fault, would it?  
“I-I won’t...I won’t tell you…! I-I don’t know! I don’t know where he is, I…” The man in question cursed himself for his weakness, his old, brittle limbs bruising instantly from the hit.  
Fear encased him in a cocoon of vulnerability.  
He knew he was going to crack. 

Zuko let out a frustrated ‘hmph’, and tsked his tongue. If this man refused to cooperate with him then...then...maybe violence was the answer.   
And his father would surely be proud of this, wouldn’t he?  
Wouldn’t he…?  
Of course, he would be - Zuko argued with himself - his father would thrive seeing that Zuko was finally coming into his element of rulership and power.   
He could recall what Ozai had told him, once.   
‘There is no right and wrong. You create what is right and what is wrong because you are the Firelord.’ he’d stated once when he was teaching Zuko the ways of ruling the empire.

Sorrow was the only way Iroh could describe the way he felt as he watched from behind as his nephew threatened a poor man with ruthless violence like a brute.  
It disgusted him.   
He knew Zuko wasn’t too far gone - he could be salvaged. He could be saved and turned to the path of good, but it was moments like these where Iroh could see the resemblance between his estranged brother and beloved nephew.   
Cruelty.   
Sadism.   
Hatred.   
Three words he could use to describe them both, at least when Zuko acted in this manner.  
Still, he dare not oppose his nephew’s whims. What could he even do, really, to protect this poor man?   
The last thing he wanted was for Zuko to view him as a real traitor. A traitor of his words and his care for Zuko, which he was not; but Iroh knew Zuko was a fragile young man and everything he did around him had to be gradual and carefully planned out. 

...So he just closed his eyes tightly so they ached, refusing to open like a stubborn chestnut fallen from an Autumn tree. 

The crunching of bones and pleading screams were repulsive.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The moon faded into the waves and melted into a glittering mess, the sun replacing it soon after.  
Daylight and blue skies foretold a beautiful day ahead.   
And Iroh wished it to be so - even if he knew it couldn’t be. Wouldn’t be.  
“Sailing into Fire Nation waters ... Of all the foolish things you've done in your eighteen years, Prince Zuko, this is the most foolish!” The day would end in disaster. There was surely no other possible outcome but the worst; sailing back into their exiled territory was a suicide mission.   
Zuko was losing his mind.  
The worst part of all was the knowledge that try as he may, Iroh could never convince his nephew to turn back and sail away - he knew, now, that the boy was too darn stubborn for his own good.   
Still, he was much displeased and was going to let Zuko know it.  
Because that was all he could do. 

“I have no choice, Uncle.”   
And it was true, at least in Zuko’s eyes - he had no choice! He couldn’t just...not go after the Avatar. If he didn’t, then Zhao would get to him first and his one chance at full redemption would be taken - forever!  
It was worth the risk.   
Everything was worth the risk if it meant that he could regain everything that’d been taken.   
Or die trying.

Anger and trepidation combined in Iroh’s psyche like contrasting paints on a canvas white canvas.   
“Have you completely forgotten that the Fire Lord banished you?” His hiss caused Zuko to flinch - something Iroh caught if only for a second, wounding his heart to witness.   
He hated having to yell at his nephew. Upsetting the boy was never his intention, but he was always so...so insanely ridiculous and stupid, that Iroh was at a loss of what else to do.  
The reminder that his own father exiled him stung deep, but it was something that required no reminding - after all, each time he saw his own reflection he was reminded of that permanent lesson.  
Iroh’s demeanour softened, and he whispered in dreadful apprehension, “What if you're caught?”   
The older man could not care less about what fate made of him - be it a prisoner or a dead man. He’d lived his life longer than he should have - longer than the man whose lives he’d taken got to live. If death would befall him, it would the will of the universe.  
But Zuko...he couldn’t let anything happen to him.  
Dear Gods above, may nothing bad happen to his nephew.  
He was all Iroh had left and the only chance he had at his own redemption. Keeping Zuko alive and happy was all he desired and within the blink of an eye he’d sacrifice himself for him time and time again, if he had to.   
It just hurt Iroh knowing his nephew was unaware of how deeply his practically-fatherly love for him ran.

However, his uncle’s words only caused further offence and distress, “I'm chasing the Avatar! My father will understand why I am returning home!” Zuko scowled at his uncle firmly, showing his mind was made up and nothing Iroh could possibly say or do would change that.  
Besides - he was chasing after his honour - surely if they were caught his father would allow him permission to continue? This was the task he’d been royally assigned, after all…! 

Deep within the murky ocean of his soul, Zuko knew that he wouldn’t. Try as he may to lie to himself, he couldn’t keep fooling himself forever, but for now...he just had to believe his father loved him and wanted the best for him. That this was a learning experience with his best intentions in mind, or else he’d break down.

Iroh knew he should leave him be. He shouldn’t argue, that led nowhere.   
But his own anger was consuming him and he was far from the patient paragon of peace he so desperately wished to be, and the rage-laced words of pure frustration escaped him before he could consider them.   
“You give him too much credit. My brother is not the understanding type!”   
My brother, and not ‘your father’. Because, in Iroh’s mind, Zuko was his son. His only remaining joy in this world.   
The one thing Iroh lived for, these days.

If it wasn’t for Zuko spotting the flying bison in the sky, he would have certainly fuelled the inferno of wrath between him and his uncle, but soon the argument was forgotten and dropped into a puddle of disinterest. “There they are. Helmsman! Full steam ahead!” 

Iroh solemnly stared at the sky, praying silently that this quest would not take the one thing he had left from him.   
And so, he sat back and observed as the helmsmen prepared the catapult, loading it with flaming projectiles ready to shoot the bison out of the air.  
The concept of the poor creature being harmed in the process made Iroh tearful. That may very well be the final flying bison in the world.  
Such majestic beings, slaughtered because of an ancestral war caused by greed.   
He cursed his own forefathers for their foolishness and their hearts that blazed with hatred. 

Pulling out his fan, Iroh waved it at himself, dread eating away at him. He needed a way to ease his tensions. “Uh, really Prince Zuko, couldn't you shoot them down with something more fragrant?”  
It wasn’t funny nor comedic in any way, shape or form; but it worked.  
It worked to soothe his own nerves, if for a moment.  
Zuko rolled his eyes, ignoring his Uncle’s stupidity and lit the fireball, “Oh my mark!” He exclaimed, eyes squinted and secured on the Avatar, “Fire!”  
A guard beside him sliced the rope cleanly, releasing the flaming projectile into the heavenly skies, like a flaming drop of rain, flying at the Avatar. 

Suddenly, Zuko spotted something up ahead. “A blockade.” He whispered in alarm, but refused to panic.   
He had no time to waste. 

Dozens - if not hundreds - of fire nation ships were ready to fire at the Avatar. Undoubtedly, Zhao must be behind this…!  
He was playing dirty, if this was him - using resources Zuko had no access to in order to beat him. But he...he couldn’t lose!  
“Technically you are still in Earth Kingdom waters. Turn back now and they cannot arrest you.” Iroh spoke up, walking over hesitantly, still feeling awful for having raised his voice at him.   
“If we turn back now, we can get out of this, Prince Zuko.” his pleas fell upon deaf ears. Zuko was too determined, too foolish - too desperate, to listen to him.  
He was going to bring them both to their dooms.   
“He's not turning around!” Zuko growled as he watched the Avatar continue over the barricade. The logic inside him screamed at him to turn around - risking the lives of his men, uncle and himself was a selfish thing to do. 

“Please, Prince Zuko! If the Fire Nation captures you, there is nothing I can do! Do not follow the Avatar.”  
Iroh felt his own desperation scorching his chest worst than sickness. The idea of being helpless as Zuko is taken away far from him terrified him more than anything else ever could. He needed to get through to him - he had to!   
This was something that would leave Zuko’s life on the line - if they were captured, not only would Zuko be taken as a prisoner but surely killed.   
His brother knew no mercy, no love and no care. The fact he’d allowed Zuko to go free, albeit banished, had been an act of ultimate kindness from the Firelord in itself.   
If caught again, there would be no mercy.  
Iroh knew his brother well enough to know that.   
Zuko knew he should listen to his uncle, that he should turn back and save them all, and he was about to - lowering his head and closing his eyes as he thought, needing to make a decision - quick.   
But then...then he thought about Zhao. And the success Zhao would gain if he did what Zuko was supposed to do - he would win everything that Zuko had lost, that he had spent what felt like half his lifetime, now, on completing. Zhao would get everything Zuko deserved. 

And he couldn’t allow that to happen.   
“I’m sorry, Uncle.” He muttered regretfully, clenching his hands into fists, raising his head boldly with unyielding eyes. With a harsh thrust of his right hand, he gave the doomed command, “Run the blockade!”

Iroh wanted to weep.   
This would be their undoing. 

On a ship opposite the Exiled Prince’s stood Commander Zhao, a telescope in his hand, smirking, “The Avatar.” He’d found him at long last. Finally, he would earn his true glory in Firelord Ozai’s eyes, and perhaps he would finally be accepted into the official cabinet. He lowered the telescope in his hand and raised a curious eyebrow. Zuko’s ship.   
Chuckling darkly, he hummed to himself, pleased, “And the banished prince. This must be my lucky day.”   
Today was shaping out even better than he’d hoped. Especially with the Firelord responding to his last letter’s suggestion.   
Indeed, his life was shaping out to be idyllic. 

And today was going to be a great day. 

“Commander Zhao. What are your orders?”  
“Shoot the bison down, captain.”  
The captain felt his blood curl, “ But there's a Fire Navy ship out there, sir! One of our own! What if it's hit?” The idea of there being fire-nation casualties stung the man with pity and woe. A war was a war, but shooting down one of their own…  
“So be it. “ The Captain gulped, staring at Zhao as if he were a crazed murderer. Maybe he was, but it only made him stronger. Worthy of praise.  
“It belongs to a traitor.”   
Commander Zhao could still recall the day Zuko had been banished. What another perfect day that had been. “Ignite...launch!” 

The blue sky lost its cerulean gleam. A blood-red rain of fire poured from the heavens towards the Avatar. Screams of him and his allies filled the winter air, but the bison dodged them all - if barely. 

Fiery eyes stared with regret up at the flaming sky. He should have listened to his uncle. Now, they may all well die here, and he would never accomplish his task, would never wear his ornament again, would never feed the turtle ducks or kiss (Y/N)’s soft lips ever again.   
He shut his eyes tightly, awaiting his sorrowful demise when it never came. Turbulence arrived, but death avoided him, at least today.   
Countless fireballs fell into the ocean around them, waves eagerly swallowing up their elemental opposites, extinguishing them.   
The turbulence, however, was almost catastrophic, disturbing the once-calm sea blanket into a mess of disordered waves. 

A single fireball exploded, then, shaking Zuko off his feet as he held onto the railing for support. The side of the vessel was wrecked. 

“Prince Zuko! The engines are damaged! We need to stop and make repairs!”  
“ Do not stop this ship.”  
They had come too far, now, to stop. Maybe this was a sign from the Gods and spirits that he was supposed to face this head-on.  
Iroh shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. If Zuko would die, he would have nothing else left in this world to live for.

Commander Zhao’s full attention was focused completely on the Avatar.   
“Ready …” He held his hand up, issuing his command.   
“...Fire!” A single catapult launched a fire blast directly toward the bison. Zhao believed, wholeheartedly, that he had the Avatar in his grasp - but then the Avatar utilised his cursed airbending! He used a powerful kick, sending the boulder of fire away from him and Zhao was forced to watch as it erupted in a smoky blast.   
And then...they passed them by, entirely. 

Maybe this wouldn’t be such a great day, after all

“Where do you think the Avatar is headed, sir?”  
“I'm not sure.” turning aside, he gazed at the damaged ship of the banished prince. “But I bet a certain banished prince will know.” His eyes squinted, furious.   
He felt humiliated - an entire blockade could not stop the Avatar - a teenage boy! How...how embarrassing this was!   
And he fully planned on taking his rage out on someone, and he knew exactly on who to do just that. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Later that day you were studying. A lady of the court was expected to be educated and knowledgable, after all. You had been raised with the best tutors, taught alongside the royal siblings - an honour beyond imagination.  
Azula still had her own studies, of course - but they were rarer and more flexibly-timed than yours because as the future Firelord she had many training sessions to attend. Firelord Ozai valued strength of body above anything else in this world.   
You always had a feeling you were being academically sharpened to become Azula’s right-hand when she became the Firelord - in the past, it had surely been because a Firelord’s wife was meant to be the delicate, yet intelligent flower - but when the engagement fell through with Zuko’s banishment, your studies took a significant spike in strategic and tactical wisdom - the wisdom of soldiers.   
You supposed there was also the hope that teaching you such content would improve your own bending abilities and help you unlock your potential.   
Everyone knew that you were holding yourself back from the full damage you could cause because most of them had witnessed the act you committed at the tender age of six.   
All those innocent, unfortunate deaths, caused by your childish mind being unable to comprehend its own power and acting on impulse.  
And so, you were a bloodied murder, celebrated - encouraged - to repeat such actions. 

You had your scroll on your desk, reading it and making notes - mental and physical - of things worth remembering.   
Past mistakes that generals and commanders had committed;  
Weaknesses of Earth Kingdom tribes and warriors;  
Which landscapes were best for each type of battle;  
And, of course, how glorious the Fire Nation was for spreading their advanced superiority with the world.

When you were a child you believed it without hesitation. What else could you believe?   
Now, you had queries about the things taught at schools, but you also did not dare speak up against it. That wasn’t your place.  
You were a good student, so you thought; your tutors seemed to have little problems with you, many of them even praising you for your academic valour.   
If only you could be just as good on the battlefield as you were with studies. 

A knock on your bedroom door interrupted you.   
“Come in,” You responded to whoever was on the other side of the door, surprised to see it was your father. Immediately you felt your muscles tense - the atmosphere transformed from pleasant to heavy as you straightened your spine, holding your breath in anticipation.   
“Father.” You greeted him with the utmost respect, attempting to conceal your anxiety. He frightened you. 

Before all this, you’d witnessed him hitting your mother about like a ragdoll. Maybe that was why you’d grown so protective over her even at such as young age. You loved her, and wanted to protect her from everyone, but that was the beginning of the end, for you.   
“(Y/N).” He responded in acknowledgement, looking around, awkwardly, then sighing. “I have come to see how your studies are going.”

He rarely visited you at all - he and mother did not live at the palace - but he spent many days and nights here regardless, due to military efforts and plans and meetings.   
He was one of the men in Ozai’s personal cabinet, so it was to be expected.  
This, though, was unusual.

“My studies?” You asked, glancing down at your scrolls and sheets of paper. “They’re all going well.” You weren’t quite sure what else you could say about the matter. Last time you’d spoken to him was when he almost hit you in front of all the other generals during your monthly training session.  
He nodded, rigidly. He was just as uncomfortable as you were, right now.   
“Good.” He responded, and then cleared his throat, glaring at you, “I want you to get into the habit of training more. You need to focus on physical education as well.” He seemed to want to say more, but turned around.  
Was...that really why he’d come all this way? Just to tell you to try harder?  
Just before he walked out the room he paused, placing a muscled hand on your doorway, gripping it tightly. He turned around to look at you, fiercely.  
“And (Y/N),” he added, “Never forget that you’re a Fire Nation citizen. You owe everything you have to our Firelord. Make me proud, child. I have no room in my life for a disobedient traitor, so do not do anything that would disappoint me.”   
You knew why he was saying this, there was no unclear confusion about it - he was reminding you of your heritage. Your mother’s Water Tribe connection was one of the many issues you had with yourself - you never felt as if you belonged in the Fire Nation. It always felt wrong to be here.   
But you could never envision yourself being accepted by the Southern Water Tribe, even if you ever did go there.  
You were a monstrosity; your mother believed wholeheartedly that your powers were proof that Waterbenders and Firebenders should never breed - you were what was born if those “mixed”. One who could bend the essence of life itself.   
A monstrosity.   
You owed Firelord Ozai everything you had and everything you were - you could never be ungrateful and turn your back on the man who’d taken care of you since your childhood, even if ‘taking care’ meant shaping you into someone useful for him.   
You didn’t even really mind, it, truthfully.   
Because being useful made you happy that you had any worth at all.   
If Firelord Ozai wanted you to be educated on tactical brilliance and military advancement, then so be it; he was your patron and you owed him your very life.  
You would be nothing without him, and you seemed to forget that often. Your father had been right to remind you of this, and you did not blame him for it. In a way, you liked to think it was your father looking out for you - making sure you stay in line for your own sake and sanity. Even if it wasn’t true, you liked thinking he cared about you more than he admitted, and that this was his own way of protecting you from future harm.   
He was right, anyway; if you didn’t improve, and kept allowing your own morals to keep you at bay, then you would lose your usefulness to Firelord Ozai.  
You would become worthless.   
And then you’d be cast aside and...all alone.

You had contemplated running away with Zuko when he’d gone into exile, yes. Considered it, but for a slight second, because you always knew, rooted in the crevices of your heart, you would sooner die than be banished.  
Even if it felt like you could never truly belong, this was home. They accepted you here - renowned you, here. And this was where your family was, and where your Firelord was and where Azula was. And you wanted Zuko here badly - it killed you to be without him every day - but as long as you were here with Azula, you would be okay.  
Because whenever things were awful, her presence fixed everything. That sweetly spiced scent of cinnamon and ginger that overwhelmed your senses. She was addictive and impossible to live without.

Without any further contemplation, you threw yourself back into your studies. You had plenty to cover, and wanted to get this done by this evening.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Meanwhile, Zuko’s wounded vessel approached the blockade, under his own orders to keep going and breakthrough.   
What he believed to be strength and military valour was, to all others, folly and idiocy. But most of all, it was disappointing to Iroh.   
The two ships, however, surrounded the ship instead of moving away. Fuck.  
“We're on a collision course!” Iroh tried, so, so very hard, to bash logic into his nephew’s head but he refused to take it, choosing personal delusions over good advice.   
“We’re gonna make it!”  
Zuko needed to exclaim these confident lies to stop himself from falling into eternal despair. 

“The boarding party is ready to apprehend Prince Zuko, sir.” The captain bellowed obediently, standing straight with his men behind him.   
Zhao thought only for a moment before ordering, “Wait! Cut the engines, and let them pass.”  
This would be a superior choice, by far. A better, smarter choice that would lead him straight to the Avatar, and then he’d kill to birds with one stone.  
“Sir?” confusion didn’t even begin to explain the emotions his captain felt at this strange order, but it was his job to follow them.   
Each ship in the blockade came to a halt, granting Zuko's ship the ability to glide by them, untouched and without further damage. Zhao stood high, interlocking his gaze with Prince Zuko’s, the tension profound.   
Safely sailing through the barricade of ships, Iroh and Zuko shared a curious, but cautious, glance.   
Something wasn’t right, here. 

Zhao watched the ship pass below him, eyes glinting. He smirked to himself, knowing that no matter how much Zuko tried, he would surpass him in every way.  
Besides, he was possibly soon going to have a very special reward for his tasks.  
The sweetest reward.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
If one was to gaze into her heart they would find twisted vines of hatred twirled around a heart blue with woe. Li Tapeesa sat alone by the window in his house - not hers, it had never been hers. The South Pole was her home, and she hadn’t been home in almost two decades. How quickly the time does pass. 

Braiding and unbraiding her hair, she mindlessly thought about everything and nothing.   
Her days were always long, even winter ones that were supposed to be the shortest ones in the year.  
She was grateful that her dearest husband wasn’t home most of the time, but without him or with him there was so little for her to do.   
She could take up hobbies, but why bother? The last thing she wanted to be was a good, proper Fire Nation wife for the bastard.  
If anything would please him, she wanted it not.  
Her existence, now, revolved around spite.   
There were times when she considered taking her own life, it would make things easier. So, so much easier. She’d even tried to, sometimes, but was always stopped before death’s sweet embrace could take her to the other side.   
There had to be a better world beyond. There had to be.   
Anywhere would be better than here, though.

She thought about her daughter. About how distraught she had been the last time Tapeesa had laid her eyes upon her.   
She felt pity for the girl.   
So, so much pity.   
Because (Y/N) was never meant to be born; she was an anomaly, her largest mistake, forced upon her unwillingly.   
But she also felt guilt - overwhelming guilt since their previous encounter. Because despite the fact she thought her daughter should’ve never been born, she had been; and there’d been a time when (Y/N) was innocent, however long ago it now was.   
She’d been born pure, and Tapeesa found herself wondering whether everything could’ve been different if she’d been a better mother. Maybe then, her child would have never discovered her horrid bending abilities, and they all could have lived in denial and blissful ignorance.  
She loved imagining an alternative past. It used to be one where she’d never been taken - but for several years now it was a different kind of fantasy.  
One in which (Y/N)’s abilities were simply non-existence; a fabricated world where her child was never taken from her arms to the palace, and never murdered anyone with unheavenly powers.  
An imperfect world where her tragedy was just a little lesser than it was.  
In this world, she would have been a good mother. The type of mother (Y/N) needed, but lacked. Because she would have been entirely hers to love, to hold, to have. She would be the only one to appreciate her baby without the gaze of filthy firebenders.   
Maybe things could’ve been different if that happened.

She grasped her neck, stroking the betrothal necklace she never took off. The one part of her individuality she had remaining. Most fortunately to her, her husband never realised the importance of her choker, and thus cared not for whether or not she wore it.  
Now, more than ever, she regretted not raising (Y/N) the Water Tribe way. Maybe if she strengthened those bonds to her homeland, her daughter wouldn’t have been turned into what she was now, and what she was going to be.   
But it was too late, now. 

She was too late.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The yuletide air felt freezing, even though the air was hardly cold, despite it being high winter.   
Tightening his knuckles on the railing of the deck, Zuko stared up at the sky in fear.   
“What's he up to, Uncle? Why didn't Commander Zhao arrest me?”  
Iroh knew the answer, and sighed, hesitantly informing his nephew.  
“Because he wants to follow you. He knows you'll lead him to the prize you're both after: the Avatar.”  
It wasn’t difficult to figure out Zhao’s intentions. He always wanted to do whatever would benefit him, best.   
He was a terribly selfish man.   
The type of man that Iroh refused to allow Zuko to become.   
The smoke that trailed behind them would make it easy for Zhao to follow suit.   
Zuko, glancing at the grey rising puffs of cloud, spoke. “If Zhao wants to follow a trail of smoke, then that's exactly what I'll let him do.”

Zuko decided to go into the water, ready to sail on a rowboat.  
“Uncle, keep heading north. Zhao will follow the smoke trail, while I use it as a cover.”  
Grunting in doubt, Iroh sighed and shook his head, thinking. This was incredibly dangerous but...it was rather this than Zuko getting caught and taken from him. Zuko's boat settled on the ocean's surface and faded away as he rowed, concealed entirely by thick smoke and unable to be detected by Zhao’s telescope.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Firelord sat on his golden throne, straight-faced and in thought.   
Better than her brother in every way and form, fortunately for them all. He couldn’t bear it if he had two failures for offspring.   
Zuko was a pitiful boy. Even now, with the Avatar back, he knew his son could never accomplish the one task he was given. It was meant as the impossible task, but luck was on Zuko’s side. Regardless - he knew his son enough to know he was weak. Too weak. 

Still...if the boy managed to fulfil the quest, capture and bring him the Avatar; then even Ozai himself would praise him. He was a ruler before he was a father, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate strength. If the boy ever managed to do the one thing he shouldn’t be able to, then who was Ozai to refuse him self-deserved honour?  
He doubted it, but that did not mean it could not happen. 

He thought for a moment about his children - both of them - and his own fatherhood. He liked to fancy himself a good father, at the very least when his children were young. He tried his best, back then, to be a proper, caring father. His son owed him his life more than once. Not only had Ozai spared him during the Agni Kai, but there’d been the time he saved his son from drowning on Ember Island - without him, he would’ve died in the murky depths.  
And, of course; the time he chose to spare his life as a newborn by not throwing him over the walls for his weakness - even if it was thanks to Ursa that he didn’t do it. 

Azula had spoken out against him - he commended her bravery and the fact she stood up for herself.   
But she also was questioning his authority - an unacceptable deed. She would have to be reminded that his word was law.   
He waved his hand and a servant bowed, “Yes, my lord?”   
“Bring me the letter from Commander Zhao. I need to reconsider his request.”   
“Right away, Your Highness.”   
He smirked to himself, leaning back in his throne, elbow leaning on the golden handle and leaned his head sideways, support his temple on his fist. He had many plans for the future, indeed.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Once inside, Zuko made his way like a ninja, looking for the commotion of the Avatar left and right, hiding in plain sight. This was a tremendously foolish thing for him to be doing but he had to.   
Zhao wasn’t going to defeat him and steal his honour from him.

He finally did find them, hiding behind a grand pillar, holding in his breath as to not let out a peep.  
He heard them trying to get inside the temple, without much success.  
But when they did, he stepped out from hiding, grabbing the Avatar from behind, pinning his arms behind him. “he Avatar's coming with me!” his presence and declaration shocked all those in the temple, the captured sages used the element of Zuko’s surprise to overcome their captors, “Close the doors! Quickly!” Zuko demanded, but before the doors could successfully shut and Zuko could lead the Avatar down the stairs, the Avatar glanced over his shoulders, seeing his friends chained, and narrowed his eyes, spinning away from Zuko and setting himself free from the firebender’s grasp.   
Zuko was promptly blown away down the stairs with a blast of icy air, groaning in pain.   
With no time to spare he got onto his feet, running after the Avatar. 

By the time he stood in front of the door, it locked. He growled and blasted it, over and over - the other four sages joining him, but nothing happened.   
He was going to scream! He got so close this time!   
“Why isn't it working, it's sealed shut?”  
“It must have been the light. Avatar Roku doesn't want us inside.”  
Enraged, he turned to Sage Shyu, who knelt before him. “Why did you help the Avatar?” Gods above forgive him, he never wanted to harm anyone as much as he did, now. This absolute fool had allowed the Avatar to lock himself inside the temple - how much more of a true traitor could he be!?  
“Because it was once the sages' duty. It is still our duty.” He responded with soiled pride.  
Claps filled the silent space. Zhao.  
“What a moving and heartfelt performance. I'm certain the Fire Lord will understand when you explain why you betrayed him.” For a moment, Zuko couldn’t understand whether he was speaking to him or Shyu.  
The Sage placed his hands together, bowing his head. “Commander Zhao.”  
“And Prince Zuko. It was a noble effort, but your little smokescreen didn't work.” Zuko growled like a beast, stabbing spears into Zhao with his glare.   
Dark thoughts followed, sinking into Zuko’s mind.   
Zhao’s men sneak behind the prince, however, seizing him by his forearms and holding onto him, tightly. “ Two traitors in one day, the Fire Lord will be pleased.”   
Zuko wanted to shove that smirk off Zhao’s cursed mouth.  
He didn’t deserve happiness. He deserved sorrow.   
Zuko pushed against his captors, hissing and growling like a monstrous brute, “You're too late, Zhao! The Avatar's inside and the doors are sealed!” He was captured despite his attempts.   
He was a captured creature, going to be taken to the slaughter.  
“No matter.“ Watching the Proud Prince thrash around like crazy brought a deep sense of satisfaction. Soon, he’d have everything that this prince had lost with his own folly.  
“Sooner or later, he has to come out.”

“When those doors open, unleash all your firepower!” He ordered to every firebender there. This was it - his victory!   
The guards surrounded the door as it started to glow bright and pure; Smoke filled the room from floor to ceiling. The glided door opened, releasing a blinding light that could ruin one’s eyes if they stared too intently.   
“Ready…” Zhao utters, ready to shoot as the light dims away into nothingness, a glowing pair of white eyes shining through the dark oblivion.  
“Fire!” the guards shot at the unseen target, shooting into the darkness with the hope of succeeding.   
The wall of fire accumulates, circling around the Avatar.   
It was no longer Avatar Aang.  
It was…  
“Avatar Roku…” Shyu murmured with relieved eyes of awe.  
Zhao felt his heart palpitate. He was horror-stricken and afraid beyond mortal imagination. Avatar Roku was...he was supposed to be dead! Surely this was a joke - no way could...could Avatars be..summoned?  
One skilled move was all it took for Avatar Roku to use the flames to circle around, searing the guards far back, melting chains off the waterbending tribe siblings and releasing them from their captivity.   
Freeing Zuko, as well.   
The blast shattered the outer wall, leaving ruins behind it.   
Avatar Roku turned his gaze upon the sages, almost all but one of them fleeing from is wrath.   
“Avatar Roku is going to destroy the temple! We have to get out of here!” Shyu cried out, rising to his feet, ready to flee.  
He knew, now, that helping the Avatar had been the right thing to do.

Roku knelt forward, melting the very floor which they stood on into a molten mess. The lava streamed below and erupted in wild explosions straight from the underworld.   
Zhao cursed his poor luck, escaping outside with all he had; he was NOT going to die like this. 

Zuko held his breath, believing this to be the end until the chaos ceased, and it seemed that Roku abandoned Aang’s vessel.  
A beam of sunlight from the Solstices’ light moved across, away from the statue, eyes no longer bright.  
The temple started to shake and lean, the structure caving in due to the damage it had taken. Lava fills the room and Zuko swears this is the end, until he sees the Avatar and his friends fly away from the hole and hisses, limping over to jump. It was better than drowning in burning lava. 

Zhao stared to watch the Avatar fly away. “No Prince, no Avatar! Apparently, the only thing I do have is five traitors!” Today ended in atrocity! And it was all the fault of these forsaken fools!   
“Take them all to the prison hold.”  
He went back into his ship, going to read over his letters to the Firelord. He was still awaiting his latest one - he prayed this disaster would not make the Firelord reconsider his decision regarding his idea. 

From the safety of his ship, Zuko watched the bison fly far away across the sunset-shining sky.   
He would live to die another day, albeit wounded and hurt and bloody, he’d survived.

He survived.   
And he would continue to do so time and time again, because he had to see her again. His (Y/N).   
One day...one day she was going to marry him.   
But in order for that to happen, he knew he couldn’t die just yet. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
With every week that passed, you were getting fewer letters. It concerned you and you understood they were busy - so very busy - but...Zuko seemed to be taking a disturbing turn in his writing.   
It felt like he was slowly losing his own grip on himself, and it hurt to witness. You tried your best to write compliments and assurances - hoping and praying that it’d help him calm himself.   
But the Avatar kept escaping him and it only caused him further troubles.   
You could only hope as you stared up at the shining moon that he would capture the Avatar soon and return to you before it made him lose his mind.  
You needed him to be himself.  
And yet, meanwhile, you also witnessed a seemingly softer side to Zuko you’d longed for back when Ursa was still here.  
Time away was doing him as much good as it was bad.  
It was strange, really; you weren’t certain how to deal with it all, what to think. You used to believe that coming home would be the best for him - but you’d been selfish. You always were.  
You craved him here - wanted and needed him to come back to you.  
His slightly chapped lips on yours, his strong arms holding you tightly, oh-so-safely - you longed for it again.   
But...now, you were slowly beginning to think that, maybe, he would be happier if he gave it all up himself. He’d write to you of his twisted frustration toward the Avatar, but also about the adventures he has, the places he goes to - always stating that the Fire nation was superior, but you knew he was just saying that because he wanted to believe it, himself. 

But you could not bear to consider, if for a moment, never seeing him again. Never kissing him again or spending the day doing nothing but watching the sky by the turtle-duck pond.   
You needed him to come back.   
But did it truly matter what you needed, if he may need something entirely different? Would he even want to come back to you - what if he found someone in the Earth Kingdom? That was possible, wasn’t it?   
The one thing you dreaded the most, until recently, because...maybe that’d be for the best. Maybe...maybe you’d both been so hung up on yearning that neither of you realised how unhealthy you were being.   
Your heart burdened and heavy knew that it wouldn’t be able to let Zuko go.  
He was your first love. Did anyone ever truly let go of their young, first love?  
One thing was certain; you didn’t want to let him go. Never, if you could help it; a part of you would always cling to him, his memory, his scent. 

You just wanted him here. 

Letters weren’t enough, anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a Kudos and Comment below.  
> how do you like the story so far? Who's your favourite character? What do you think about the philosophies?


	9. Update + Twitter

Hi everyone - this isn't a chapter - sorry!   
Just a note for everyone; 

Embers Turn to Ashes is going to be in a short hiatus! I'm starting University soon, and need to focus on that for the most part. I don't plan on this being longer than another 1-3 weeks at *most*, because this is my baby and passion project and I *promise* to finish it (we're like 5% in and already at 55,000+ words oop) but a single chapter takes me like 30 hours to write overall because they're usually 20+ pages each and require proof-reading and editing because I Am A Perfectionist And Everything must be Perfect or else I cry.   
I also post this series on my Tumblr - yanderedarlings (yanderedarlings.tumblr.com) and on my latest chapter I got like....28 notes from the last time I checked and it dampened my motivation. Fear not - this *will* get completed but it's gonna take me a while to do so because it's such a slow-burn in nature. 

I want to thank everyone who has commented and given me a Kudos on here - you're all wonderful and I am grateful for your support! It really does motivate me to continue writing <3 Though I do ask that if the series starts to be too boring that you could inform me so I know whether to spice things up or speed them up - the last thing I want is for this to be a chore to sit through! <3

I also have a twitter, where you can get updates about my series/one-shots/requests and general writing-and-blog based things.   
https://twitter.com/EwelinaRozalia

I'll be posting on my twitter regarding ETTA updates/notes and when it'll come back (So far I estimate around September is when ETTA will make its golden return!).  
I apologise for this - I wish I could keep writing unstopped but I also know I need to focus/prioritise other things in life and if I don't take occasional breaks w/ this I'll burn myself out, so this is also to ensure I keep my love for ETTA alive <3 

Please do keep commenting and liking and sharing the story with your friends if you can! It helps *so* much and I appreciate it deeply! <3 <3 <3 

Ps: If any of you ever end up making memes/fan art/anything at all fan related to this series I WILL Cry and I only mention this because someone on my tumblr *has* made memes a/b this series and I just died from happiness 

Thank you all!   
Stay safe, wear masks, and stay lovely <3


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